A Language Without Words

There must be a language that doesn’t depend on words,
Like God’s presence in my life as the morning sun gently hits my awakening eyes;
The softness of my cat’s fur as I run my fingers through it while he purrs.
Like the language of my mother’s love as she gets up early to cook the whole family our food,
Or the silent cries of my father as he sat helpless beside my hospital bed,
Or maybe even in the way my brothers and I trust each other.

There must be some form of communication beyond words,
Like the joy in my friends’ eyes in every gathering we have,
Or in the way some flowers bloom even before springtime arrives.
Like the smell of books and the subtle smiles I exchange with the people that I adore,
Or how my world seems to stop when I stare at the eyes of this one boy.

There must be more than just what words can say,
Like when it feels like the world is ending, but really, I think it just needs some mending.
There must be more to the silence in every relationship’s fights where lovers realize if the love’s still there or if it’s the story’s end,
Or in the look in my loved ones’ eyes when something breaks their heart,
Like how I stayed in a dying relationship in the past, trying to make it work.

There must be something that speaks to us without the use of words,
From the sound of someone playing the piano to when the sea waves crash to the shore.
I’d like to believe there’s more to languages than just words,
Because somewhere in all the talks and noises of the people who would like to be heard are the things that were never said but were shown in actions instead.