Musing Lately

Musing Lately Let’s just say with my husband now having heart troubles and my being old (& bedridden while waiting for my new prosthetic-leg) makes for on-going thinking, remembering, observing, reflecting, tentatively concluding, believing how the ineffable ultimately rules…and one’s language (for all its commanding need to be used with a true Love ) finds w o r d s to be less than their expressive task f a i l (despite even some i divine inspiration) n g to cast some light brighter than the humble votive’s flame flickering in the heart — Or more than the one tear — felt but unseen' — in the corner of the eye, bringing along its cathartic story …ready to fall down over the cheek… Or to realize (especially after 40 years togerther) that devotion lives well beyond a 3-word statement in heights carried there by a tried, spiritual touching of our auras in the room: lives aligned for better or worse in the profound music that our closeness creates. The poems are born in being or feeling before the written. (c) sally young eslinger 7/13/24** In my youth, i was a devotee of James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. (Beckett even sent me a hand-written letter in response to one i sent him.). I pretty much memorized “Waiting for Godot.” Joyce and Beckett both saw words dissolving — into the ineffable. Some powerful poems lead us there, but that there, I’ve found is in the unspeakable.