I write. That is a thing I do, and I have been told I write well. Not all the time, mind you. But I like a lot of what I write. I convey a scene, a feeling, and understanding. I speak less eloquently, but words are the raw material of understanding. We can form soaring structures of shared knowledge, together.
But some gaps cannot be bridged by words. And I stand on one side of this chasm, throwing phrases like darts. They fly, trailing explanations like ropes. I call out for a response, your words, a reason, please help me understand.
You stand on the other side. Flinching away from my words. Your hands move, but I do not understand your gesture. You stand across.
Mute.
And all my words waver, dry up, blow away on the wind. Until I stand mute as well. Hands full of words. No longer casting them out at you. I cannot bear to see you flinch.
We stand, gazing at each other. Apart.
Some gaps cannot be bridged by words.
Wherever you are, Be There 