What's Left Unsaid
There are so many things
I wish I could say
but I can’t find the words to say them.
So many more feelings
are still in my heart
but I just can’t seem to convey them.
And as I struggle
to somehow let go
I sense understanding in your eyes.
You seem to see
what’s inside of me,
you see right through my disguise.
It helps to know that whatever I can’t
tell you right now in words,
will still be communicated
through our hearts
and my message will still be heard.
Though the time has come
to say our farewell
I find so much comfort instead
to know my goodbye
means so much more
because you hear what’s left unsaid.
By Jenn
June 20, 1992
The Rest of the Story
Everyone who knows me knows I have a
really bad memory. I mean it. I have a difficult time remembering what I did
last week, let alone 28 years ago. I am amazed at people like my husband that seem
to remember every single moment they’ve ever lived since age two. Thankfully
various journals and poems I’ve written through the years have provided an
anchor to my past. These words generally spark that ability to recall something
I haven’t thought of in years.
Every now and then, however, I come across a poem I wrote and
think to myself, when in the heck and why in
the heck did I ever write this poem? I came across the above poem recently
and found myself asking the same questions. I’ve wracked my brain trying to think
of the circumstances surrounding it. The subject matter seems a bit mature for my
high school self, based on the date it was written, so I am pretty sure I
didn’t write this poem from experience. Cue the memory recall spark. I do have a vague memory of someone coming to me once and asking me to write a poem for
them due to a similar situation. They needed to say goodbye to someone but were
having a difficult time with it. I still don’t quite remember all the
circumstances of how it all came about, but I’m pretty confident now that this
poem was the result of a personal request from someone else.
I find this all very intriguing. To craft a well-written poem
that captures the heart of an experience that I only learned about by proxy illustrates
the power of rhetoric. I find it nothing short of incredible. The fact I could
capture the sentiment shared with me and bring it to life on the page for
someone else really blows my mind. Words are powerful.
What if instead of using words to help others, someone
uses words to incite hate and enmity in others? It is a scary thought. Hitler’s propaganda comes to mind. It’s not the word themselves that are good
or bad, but how the people behind the words decide to use them. This is why
after discovering a love of words and the power they can wield, I decided long
ago I would do everything in my power to use my affinity for words to uplift
and inspire those around me. This is also why I tend to despise politics or
sensational news media in general. I don’t like it when people use the power of
words to manipulate or harm others.
This sentiment goes way back for me. It was my own father who led
by example on this one. Though he had his own opinions about the scientific
discoveries he made on a daily basis, he never tried to coerce anyone to
his point of view. He presented all sides of an issue and felt the reader
should come to their own conclusion about a topic based on all the evidence. That’s not to say he didn’t
try and persuade people to his point of view. However, he wanted it to be on
their terms, with all the facts at their disposal, not his. I think there is a fine line between persuasion
(where the reader still has a choice) and coercion (where a reader's agency is manipulated so much it becomes in question
or lost). I choose to follow in my father’s footsteps. I choose to support rhetoric that encourages the reader's full use of agency and self-discovery.
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