Ashes of Syllables

When the words will not come
For fear or exhaustion or inability
To express the overwhelming
Rest your hand upon my heart
Let your touch tell me all I need to know
Spoken language is often a smokescreen
We fill ears, rooms, minds, hearts, souls
We coat these places with the ashes of syllables
From the fires of lies we have burned
For fires are dynamic and wild
Passionate and unpredictable
We are awed by their raging
But fire is a ravaging and distorting
And nothing burns hotter than the flames
Dripping from our tongues
I do not wish to be caught or consumed
by the inferno of vain utterance
So here in this beautiful silence
Place your hand upon my heart
Allowing your touch to tell me
All I need to know