When Words Fail

  Last night I sat on the beach and looked up at the sky, exhaling a deep breath of frustration. The clouds covered the direct sunlight, and I welcomed the shade. It all feels so overwhelming! 

I have historically been proud of my ability to communicate. I am a writer and speaker, a poet and prophet. I am a wordsmith. I labor over which exact words to say and the demeanor/tone to use when annunciating my action verbs. I reach for adjectives and metaphors, with surgical precision. 

And yet, my words fail. 

I've either said too much, or not enough. Maybe it's the wrong choice of words or the emphasis was on the wrong syllable. Maybe you would rather I look the other way, dismissing the ache or ignoring the opportunity to offer paternal guidance. Maybe I should not have pushed so hard, or maybe I didn't pull hard enough or maybe... 

It doesn't matter. These days, no matter what I say, it's wrong. So you're over there with your arms crossed. And I'm over here, with my hands in the air toward heaven in a surrender.