All the Words We Can’t Say
The privilege and power of being able to speak
Mute Math
The other day I found myself shouting to be heard.
We were at a wedding. The ceremony was over and the reception was beginning. We were assigned to tables. The venue was full, crowded — we were sardines packed in suits and ties, dresses and heels.
The noise was deafening.
I have a naturally loud voice but even then I could feel my vocal chords fraying as I engaged in conversation.
Do the math.
After a couple of hours of this my voice was just gone. Mute for a time, times, and half a time. No sound, only pain.
Have you ever lost your voice?
The Sound of Silence
Or how about this — have you ever heard the silence before?
I remember getting in an argument with a significant other. Words were said. Feelings were hurt.
Then nothing.
My mind raced — what else could I say? What could I come back with to hurt in the same way I had been hurt? Or, as saner thoughts prevailed, how could I make this right? Was there a combination of syllables that could repair the devastation my previous syllabic salvo had wrought?
It’s easier to destroy than to create.
Maybe you’ve heard the silence of the dawn — it’s why some love waking up early. It’s the silence of possibility, a blank canvas.
Maybe you’ve heard the silence of too late. Standing in front of the gravestone, so much love left to share but no time left to share it.
Somehow, silence can be more deafening than noise.
All the Words We Can’t Say
What are the things you can’t say?
I lost my voice and I couldn’t say anything and this got me thinking. I couldn’t speak but I could reflect. And I realized that even if I could speak, would I?
Would I remember to say “I love you” when I’m late and rushing out the door? Would I have the courage to say, “Yes?” Would I have the courage to say, “No?”
All the things you can’t say?
Maybe they are actually the things you won’t say.
The moment might never be right to tell her you like her. It might always be inconvenient to call your buddy up. Your grandma might not be there in a year or tomorrow.
And “sorry” will always be the hardest word to say.
The Privilege and Power
When you lose your voice at a wedding reception you realize how you take the privilege for granted. You and I have the power to paint the silence with our words — for friendship, for reconciliation, for love, for any reason, at any time.
You can speak.
Will you?






