http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I once remarked to a friend that people can be are such a puzzle, to which he promptly replied that it probably was because we are such a puzzle to ourselves.
Ah, probably...
Sometimes we find it hard to express ourselves in words; if we are fortunate enough to be painters or musicians, we can often express ourselves better through those genres, certainly our deeper feelings.
At other times, we may express ourselves perfectly yet still be misunderstood because those with whom we wish to communicate choose to put their own interpretation on what we say rather than try and understand what we mean.
But what do we mean and do we ever mean quite what we say? Oh, but how often do we wish we had expressed ourselves differently!
Our use of weeds, paint, music, whatever...these all open up pathways to meaning that all parties concerned are free to follow; sometimes we are fortunate enough to follow the same path, and meaning is established. Yet, even where meaning is not fully established, the chances are our relationship with the other party will have entered a new dimension; one we are likely to explore whether consciously or subconsciously, and in so doing discover more about each other than before the dialogue began...even if we are not quite sure what, exactly.
YES, WHAT ...?
If I’d said this, or that,
said - what?
If I’d done this, or that,
done - what?
Tortured souls crying out
their guilt, left
hanging in some limbo
to - rot?
What good purpose, that?
None.
We cannot (ever) change
what’s done,
bring back loved ones
long - gone?
No, but here in the heart,
forever
willing us to live again,
move on;
Nothing, said or done then
would - what?
Have eased whose pain,
whose guilt?
Choices, rarely plain, but
ours alone
will take us here, there,
where?
No one to blame having
chosen - wrong?
Who’s to say, play judge
and jury?
Enough, surely, to be …
what, exactly?
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]
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