I should be whispering your name as I cradle your precious body close, so close to my heart.
Though my soul aches for you-
yearning that grows into a scream waiting for release-
my mouth is void, empty and formless as the earth at creation.
Hoping for grace to speak your name, waiting for the grace of its utterance,
my heart is undone by vast deserts of unanswered longing
for ideas lacking corporeal form yet haunting my every moment.
Words that fell lost, unspoken,
never completely formed out of chaos,
but always reaching through the haze
clamoring for a tongue to give voice
to the unknown, the unborn, thought.