Anne’s Aphasia: At a Total Loss for Words
Anne, whose tongue once danced in six bright streams,
German, Slovak, Czech, English, French, and Spanish,
Each language a doorway, each word alive,
Now, cancer’s shadow closes her mouth, yet leaves her mind awake.
Inside her, thought still sings, quiet as dawn mist,
Ideas unfurl, unseen, unspoken, but vivid and fierce.
Her eyes search ours, seeking a bridge across silence,
We meet her gaze, aching for the words she cannot release.
Nearly a year has passed since the diagnosis:
Each day, Anne listens, remembers, feels.
Her laughter echoes in memory, her wisdom lingers,
Yet pain grows where expression cannot reach.
What does she know in her wordless world?
Perhaps sorrow for lost conversations, hope for understanding,
A longing for connection, for the joy language once brought,
And a courage that endures, even as spoken life fades.
Anne’s silence is not emptiness, but a field of hidden roses.
We remember her voice, and in the quietude, we mourn her cruel fate.
I have written about Anne’s life and languages several times, including here:
If you feel like keeping track of Anne’s cancer journey, I’m chronicling it in prose and poetry here:
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/news/
