The Limitation of Words

Today I saw the snow descend
Beyond the window in my room;
I was poised to write but words eluded me.

It was warm inside as I looked out;
Elbows propped upon the desk,
A cup of tea aside my arm,
I watched the snowflakes fly
And tried, as best I could,
To convert my thoughts to words
And write them down upon the page.

The storm grew violent:
A universe in disarray
Expressed itself in tumult;
Despotic winds assaulted trees
As Death wandered through my yard.

I watched the world grow empty:
All that was alive died before my eyes;
The ground ceased to breathe
And lay entombed beneath the snow;
The howl of the wind
Was louder than thought,
Rendered words obsolete:
Meaning was made meaningless,
Expression denied a purpose.

I dropped my pen upon the desk
And emptied my tea in the sink;
There is no way to explain
The pallor and pain
Of the very last snow,
The final storm,
That sweeps through your yard
And writhes across your consciousness.

***

Walter Weinschenk is an attorney, writer and musician. Until a few years ago, he wrote short stories exclusively but now divides his time equally between poetry and prose. Walter's writing has appeared or is forthcoming in a number of literary publications including Lunch Ticket, The Carolina Quarterly, The Worcester Review, Cathexis Northwest Press, The Banyan Review, Sand Hills Literary Magazine, Meniscus Literary Journal and others. His first full length book, "The Death of Weinberg: Poems and Stories" (Kelsay Books) will be available this winter. More of Walter's work can be found at walterweinschenk.com.