A Song of Lament by Nancy Tally
Oh Lord, you knit me together but did you have to drop
so many stitches when you made my brain?
You must have dropped stitches for there are so many holes
into which my words and thoughts fall and disappear.
I must admit, you were creative about it.
The variety seems endless.
The letters in one word may dance about
making them impossible to erad or pesak.
Letters from multiple words may mix together
Causing a cacophony of Sorgi ts hunod.
My eyes may read them out of order.
“Is it so?” Or was it, “It is so.”
My ears may hear them out of order
“We are marching into the enemy’s camp” made no sense.
Oh! All those years it was actually “Are we marching?”
As I listen words may chute through holes and not reach my brain
in the same order in which they were spoken.
My face echoes my confusion as “Huh?” escapes my mouth.
The roll of the eyes on the speaker’s face says “Duh”
I stand in a group wanting to enter the conversation,
My thoughts are together,
As I open my mouth key words fly away.
Friends may offer me words as I struggle, I still appear stupid.
I am embarrassed and swear to myself I won’t speak again.
Why does my tongue trip and say my words out of order?
Why does it change my chosen word to something similar but wrong?
In print an editor may catch the confusion that I cannot see.
In writing I have time to make corrections that conversation does not afford.
The praise is received. People like what I wrote.
But my fear is confirmed.
As they express their surprise that I can think deeply,
I know it is true, people perceive me as shallow.
Lord, maybe you didn’t drop stitches.
Maybe moths put holes there after you were done.