words

There are times that writing can seem cathartic, but I'm finding myself more and more at a loss for words these days. The love and gratitude I feel for James is beyond expression. The limitations of language are never more evident than during my attempts to express this love and gratitude. It is perhaps for that reason that James and I fell in love over hours of reading poetry out loud to one another. We both understand the impossible depth of emotions that are beyond expression and articulation. We are both sensitive to the intensity of our emotions. We truly need the language of poetry and metaphor to help transform the abstract into some concrete form. The wonder and awe I feel for James' strength and courage is James. James is my wonder. James is my awe. It is here that I recognize that language and words are not enough.

James is still in the hospital. We are waiting for him to be moved to a bed outside of the emergency room. He has managed to get some sleep in a private room, but comfort is rarely synonymous with the hospital. I read out loud to him, hold his hand, and remember those afternoons in the shade and evenings by the fireplace in Victoria. We share the intimacy that comes with a love for simply being together (in separation from time, space, and of course, circumstance). Sometimes, it is all there is.