What We Hear and What We See

I have really enjoyed reading Lace's blog and hearing about her story. I thought that her point of view was really interesting. I know that I have always been enamored with the sound of words. It made me laugh when Sexon talked about babies making sounds for the joy of making sounds because my mom's favorite story to embarrass me with is about me loudly "reading" the Bible in church while the pastor tried to pray. Of course I couldn't actually read - I was only one - but I saw the words, knew there were supposed to be noises associated with them, and made my own. I did this in the car, in the store, everywhere I saw words. When I learned to read, I loved to read out loud, tasting each sound in my mouth. Even now, I'll stop and relish the deliciousness of a word. Lamppost. Cobblestone. Window pane. Mmmm Lovely!

This idea has always permeated my writing. Things I write must feel good to say out loud and to hear. I get lost in the syllables and consonants, weaving a story or scene. The most mundane thing can be made beautiful with the right mixture of letters. The sound of words is my passion, and that is what pushes my writing.

But then there are those, like Lace, on whom the sound and music of words is lost. This made me think. The wonderful thing about words is that they are more than just the sound. Words mean so much. There are so many levels to words. A single word can say so much. Or nothing at all. A word means something completely different to every person. Words are not black and white. Words are beautiful, and words can be evil. Words are dangerous, but they are also saving.

I think that it's important to see words from a different point of view. Not necessarily just the point of the words, but the words themselves. For so long, I have been driven by the sound and beauty of the words and how that speaks to me. But I really liked what lace said in her last post about being able to visualize the music, rather than hearing it. Visualizing the sounds.

For me, the sound of the words, and their musicality sort of dictate the images that come to my mind. First come the sounds, then the images. But how would I see things differently if I only focused on the images of the poem? Forgot about the words, but saw only the images they brought to my mind?

I looked at Vacancy in the Park again, thinking only about the images. I closed my eyes and pictured each line, bringing myself there. I was surprised to find that I had an entirely new perspective on the poem.

This time, I felt time gone by, and the loneliness left behind. It was not sad. It felt like the acceptance of change and things that will never be again.

"March... Someone has walked across the snow,
Someone looking for her knows not what.

It is like a boat that has pulled away
From a shore at night and disappeared."

Time goes on, and leaves us looking into the darkness, remembering a past long gone. We are always drawn to the past, but we cannot go back. We are always here, while time moves around us, leaving us behind with our memories if we aren't careful.

I hadn't realized the loneliness of this poem until I had taken the time to forget the words and focus only on what I saw. I'm very grateful for this new perspective I have found!