She Dreamed in a Language That Could Not Be Spoken
Not written not voiced not breathed...
as the world knows breath but spoken in glimmers,
between eyelids and sky.
Her sleep was not silence but translation of truths,
too luminous for waking air.
Each sigh curled into cloud-shape and fell as meaning the rain forgot.
No sound but music still spilled through her like moonlight,
unraveling in water.
She did not speak yet everything listened.
She did not name yet everything knew.
The stars whispered her vowels to winds that had no throat,
and they carried her memory like a veil through time.
No dictionary could hold her,
no tongue replicate her weightless grammar.
She dreamed in pulse and shimmer and hush in the warmth between endings.
If she was understood it was only by rivers
and the way light pauses before it lets itself be morning.
She dreamed not to speak, but to become what cannot be said,
again.