We speak broken words, with tongues that betray, with syllables bruised by their own inadequacy. And still, we speak, out of loneliness, out of defiance, out of the faint belief that the world might return to us something truer, more whole than what we gave it. Meaning is not the utterance. Meaning is the widening around it. Listen closely: after all the voices, after all the fragments, after all the attempts to say the unsayable, it is the silence that remains it is the silence that finally writes your name.
Good Sunday, Martin, and thank you for your comment. I’m not certain there is an “unsayable,” at least one we can capture in words. I think music might be the only art able to close the space between what we feel and what we can say about it. Music is capable of creating a space that goes beyond words, a space that widens the ground of meaning that we are able to experience, moving us toward ways that the unsayable might one day be said.
Yes, I totally agree with you in regard to music. In fact, I’d nearly go so far as to say that poetry without some musicality inherent within it is not true poetry at all because it can’t suggest what seems unsayable, but is nevertheless being said.
Moved me deeply, Paul. I also experienced a lot of inner pushback while reading, which likely relates to my current situation and some recent shifts in perspective.
Silence and quietness can sometimes carry hurt even more profoundly than spoken words, especially when silence turns into erasure, absence, or distance.
Good Sunday, Jay, and thank you for reading and commenting. I would be interested in knowing how your perspective has shifted which caused some inner pushback, if you’d care to share. If not, it’s OK.
Paul, my “Letter from Love” is probably the closest answer to your question.
Silence and quietness arrived very differently for me on Friday. A letter rendered me almost invisible bureaucratically and reduced an entire biographical reality into a few lines written after a twenty-minute assessment by two medical practitioners. They considered it sufficient to read the pension office summary, look me up and down for twenty minutes, and issue a verdict diametrically opposed to my practitioners and even the first medical assessment from the unemployment office.
Part of the experience carried an especially painful layer because those same practitioners repeatedly misgendered me throughout the process. The combination left me reflecting very differently on silence, absence, and what institutional language can do to a human life.
So when your poem reaches toward silence as the place where the name is finally written, I found myself thinking of the other kind of silence too: the silence after a file closes, after context disappears, after a life is compressed into institutional language and the person inside it has to keep proving they still exist.
I see, Jay. Is there a right to appeal? It does not sound as if silence has learned your name at all, and in not doing so has opted for erasure of identity. Are there any next steps?
Paul, thank you for caring and asking. It truly means more than I can express in words. As they letter reached me Friday and my Psychiatrist was booked solid - it is a long public holiday weekend in Germany with Pentecost today and tomorrow - I am not yet sure, what and how. I felt made so invisible by them my whole biography. I‘ll fight if possible. Yet I might run eventually out of time, given my unemployment money stops in October and originally I thoughts I might be able to finally leave Germany after I settled my debts when I sold my part of the house to my brother. He wants to renovate, refurbish, etc. I on the other don’t want to relocate within Germany. That is no no longer a given. As long as this process is not settled (and might involve a process in front of the social court, which can take time) I can’t relocate outside Germany. Yet each day here in more or less isolation to avoid as much German language as possible is not truly helping my situation. Yet even after I sold my part and settled the ~$100,000 in debt I am everything but independently wealthy. Without support I can’t sustain myself and the minimum (around 600 Euro per month, I now get 1800 €) is only paid as long as I live in Germany. So is‘s a triple bind at least.
The lamb dinners stopped last year and this year price of lamb too high. The food continues the trend and music, dancing and home made dishes continues.
Thanks Paul for this masterpiece. As you know, I, have been receiving lessons of late on the unsayable, but in a different, biological context. Some of the new medicines produce vivid, unintelligible dreams. Unsayable, I suppose?
Thank you, Paul, for another beautiful poem. I often say that every word is an arrow aimed at the heart. I say this because, although a word is only a word, the truth is that words open doors within us; they allow us to reach our soul. Especially when they are words imagined through silences.
This is stunning, Paul. I have attempted many times to say the unsayable and I haven't done so yet, but maybe your last two lines provide an answer:
"It is the silence
that finally writes your name."
Good Sunday, Martin, and thank you for your comment. I’m not certain there is an “unsayable,” at least one we can capture in words. I think music might be the only art able to close the space between what we feel and what we can say about it. Music is capable of creating a space that goes beyond words, a space that widens the ground of meaning that we are able to experience, moving us toward ways that the unsayable might one day be said.
Yes, I totally agree with you in regard to music. In fact, I’d nearly go so far as to say that poetry without some musicality inherent within it is not true poetry at all because it can’t suggest what seems unsayable, but is nevertheless being said.
I thought about it lately and music still came second to touch.
But one needs to be close in able to touch, so music it is
I was glad to meet the poem again, Paul 🩵🪄
Thank you, Chen. I’m glad you got to meet the poem. 🤝
Thank you for this restack, @Kathleen Hobbs
You’re welcome, Paul
Thank you for this restock, @Portia
My pleasure, Paul.
Thank you for sharing this poem, @Maureen Doallas
Thanks to Diane and @Blue Citizen 77 for restacking my poem! 💙💙
Thank you for this restack, @Connie J. Casella
Great poem Paul . I love it . Hugs and peace to all
Thank you for reading and commenting Mitch, and for honoring the poem with a restack—much appreciated!
Moved me deeply, Paul. I also experienced a lot of inner pushback while reading, which likely relates to my current situation and some recent shifts in perspective.
Silence and quietness can sometimes carry hurt even more profoundly than spoken words, especially when silence turns into erasure, absence, or distance.
Good Sunday, Jay, and thank you for reading and commenting. I would be interested in knowing how your perspective has shifted which caused some inner pushback, if you’d care to share. If not, it’s OK.
Paul, my “Letter from Love” is probably the closest answer to your question.
Silence and quietness arrived very differently for me on Friday. A letter rendered me almost invisible bureaucratically and reduced an entire biographical reality into a few lines written after a twenty-minute assessment by two medical practitioners. They considered it sufficient to read the pension office summary, look me up and down for twenty minutes, and issue a verdict diametrically opposed to my practitioners and even the first medical assessment from the unemployment office.
Part of the experience carried an especially painful layer because those same practitioners repeatedly misgendered me throughout the process. The combination left me reflecting very differently on silence, absence, and what institutional language can do to a human life.
So when your poem reaches toward silence as the place where the name is finally written, I found myself thinking of the other kind of silence too: the silence after a file closes, after context disappears, after a life is compressed into institutional language and the person inside it has to keep proving they still exist.
This is the piece I referred to:
https://substack.com/@jaygermany/note/c-264433267?r=1sss7q&utm_source=notes-share-action&utm_medium=web
I see, Jay. Is there a right to appeal? It does not sound as if silence has learned your name at all, and in not doing so has opted for erasure of identity. Are there any next steps?
Paul, thank you for caring and asking. It truly means more than I can express in words. As they letter reached me Friday and my Psychiatrist was booked solid - it is a long public holiday weekend in Germany with Pentecost today and tomorrow - I am not yet sure, what and how. I felt made so invisible by them my whole biography. I‘ll fight if possible. Yet I might run eventually out of time, given my unemployment money stops in October and originally I thoughts I might be able to finally leave Germany after I settled my debts when I sold my part of the house to my brother. He wants to renovate, refurbish, etc. I on the other don’t want to relocate within Germany. That is no no longer a given. As long as this process is not settled (and might involve a process in front of the social court, which can take time) I can’t relocate outside Germany. Yet each day here in more or less isolation to avoid as much German language as possible is not truly helping my situation. Yet even after I sold my part and settled the ~$100,000 in debt I am everything but independently wealthy. Without support I can’t sustain myself and the minimum (around 600 Euro per month, I now get 1800 €) is only paid as long as I live in Germany. So is‘s a triple bind at least.
When all the words are spoken, uttered, slowly the meaning is heard with in the pregnant pause: loose lips sinks ships.
Happy memorial day.
Thank you, Richbee. Good Sunday and Happy Memorial Day to you, as well!
Also my birthday. Started celebrating yesterday at Greek festival at Saint Nicholas church in Northridge. Opa!
Another Gemini—Opa! My wife and I attended that festival for several years, Richard! Always fun—so long as they didn’t run out of food!
✨🥂🪄
Thank you, Chen 💛💫
The lamb dinners stopped last year and this year price of lamb too high. The food continues the trend and music, dancing and home made dishes continues.
It’s been 15 years since our last visit, perhaps even longer. Fond memories, though
it is the silence
that finally writes your name
Thank you for reading and commenting, Kathleen
You’re welcome, Paul
Silence says so much✨
Thank you, Jo-Ann
You’re welcome, Paul
This beautiful poem reminds me of early Lacan, where he said, "all talk is a demand for love."
💚
💚💚
Thanks Paul for this masterpiece. As you know, I, have been receiving lessons of late on the unsayable, but in a different, biological context. Some of the new medicines produce vivid, unintelligible dreams. Unsayable, I suppose?
Thank you, Paul, for another beautiful poem. I often say that every word is an arrow aimed at the heart. I say this because, although a word is only a word, the truth is that words open doors within us; they allow us to reach our soul. Especially when they are words imagined through silences.
Thank you, Rolando. Words are both doors and keys.
You're right. That's a huge paradox
The last 2 lines are poweful in the age of silence against inequality, crimes against humanity and governmental shananigans killing us.