The World Seems...

The world seems so palpable 
And dense: people and things 
And the landscapes 
They inhabit or move through. 

Words, on the other hand, 
Are so abstract—they’re 
Made of empty air 
Or black scratches on a page 
That urge us to utter 
Certain sounds. 

And us: 
Poised in the middle, aware 
Of the objects out there 
Waiting patiently to be named, 
As if the right words 
Could save them. 

And don’t 
They deserve it? 
So much hidden inside each one, 
Such a longing 
To become the beloved. 

And inside us: the sounds 
That could extend that blessing— 
How they crowd our mouths, 
How they press up against 
Our lips, which are such 
A narrow exit for a joy so desperate.

--Gregory Orr