I could not talk
and so I drew
on the floor, with chalk,
When I was small.
I tried to tell you—
you didn’t know.
Poor soul!
I could not talk
and so I sketched
on paper, with charcoal,
When I was young.
I tried to show you—
you didn’t see.
Poor soul!
I could not talk
and so I painted
on canvas, with oil,
When I was grown.
I tried to reach you—
you didn’t understand.
Poor soul!
I could not talk
and so I created
on clay, with my hands,
When I was old.
I tried, too late!
You can no longer feel what I say.

J eanne B yrn e K o sek

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