The language has become insufficient
for the expression of my experience.
I find no words
to articulate the truth of my being,
and so my experience cannot be known,
even to myself.
Because my experience is deeper than my known concepts allow,
the articulation of my experience is taboo.
Sometimes, I feel the language is my enemy
that causes me to articulate pain –
the language is very good at articulating pain –
and even a word like love
does not express what I know it to be.
Some words I painfully dig up from my depth
already provoke strange looks,
as if I have ventured into unholy territory,
or maybe it is that those
with whom I have had the misfortune to commune
continue to trade
the same old powerless concepts among themselves.
I suppose that might happen
to those who have not yet become aware
that language has not organically
occurred on our planet,
but is a creation of the savvy
to serve the needs of the powerful.
It’s no coincidence,
that the rich + powerful
always seem to have larger vocabularies
than the dispossessed,
who are dispossessed
because they do not know
and do not have the words to know
that the paradigm
in which they live
and endure the hardest conflicts
and makes invisible
the truth of their experiences,
expresses only the ideas of their lords who despise them,
and leaves them struggling to speak,
because everybody knows
poor people don’t talk good.