Painting by Michael Lukasiewicz
Her language has no curves
or colors.
She dwells on the syntax of silence,
trying to be a subject
when subject she can't be yet.
Should I classify her wordless mouth
as she hides a silent zone in her throat,
in her fear of being what she is?
Maybe she reminds me of Sartre
and his definition of silence.
But does her sewn tongue mean anything
to me?
I acknowledge her dissolution
in language because language
can't explain her meaning
in a meaningless place.
Did she forget to search
for significance in her written words?
She clothed herself in an aura
of indeterminate significances
as Habermas said.
(I am trying hard to apprehend her philosophically)
I mind not her contemplation
for our intersubjective language holds mysteries
and pain.
Wittgenstein would explain her attitude
through his theories of what we can
or can't talk about
or even his invitation to silence.
Her death of speech
speaks:
she says "I am not"
I reply:
"I am afraid but we are"
Karla Bardanza
Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2012
Deep Karla, very deep.
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