Communication

Communication

Radiant spirits circle
Around and around inside our words
And collide.
From the crash
Specks of crippled sounds
Hobble towards others' ears.
The speaker puts plugs up his ears
So he will not hear the pain
Of his wounded words.

Duane Locke

Posted over on The Write Gallery

Author's Notes:
"Communication"

I've often wondered if those who can speak the truth of their inward experiences are no more than isolated solipsists. Is it just an illusion that we are hearing and being heard by others. Ranier Maria Rilke once wrote in a poem when we hug another we really hug ourselves. Such insights imply the absolute isolation of the individual. Our isolation is Terrible and thus we produce fictions in our minds to avoid facing the reality of this isolation.

I was puzzled by the effectiveness of language as a vehicle of communication, and this poem grew out of such a mood.

The poem was written after I had lunch with a girl much younger than I am. As I looked at her, I thought she does not understand me, nor do I understand her. We are two people close together at a table, yet there is an infinity of distance between us.

As to the opening imagery, it was derived from a painting by Botticelli. In this painting angels fly disorderly above the manger and seem to collide.