When Words Fail

by Harold S. Walker

Why Dance?

I asked,

Until I saw

The body whirl,

The color flow.

Drawn in. Things felt.

Were I to try to

Say them back,

I’d have to dance.

Why Sing?

I asked,

Until I heard

The hymn of praise that

drew a tear.

Emotions stirred. So deep—

Were I to

Spell them out,

I’d have to sing.

Why Paint?

I asked,

Until I saw

The well-loved scene

With captur’d mood.

A feeling rare, hard to

Explain. Just to

Allude,

I’d have to paint.

So now I know

Why dancers stretch,

Why voices strain,

Why artists toil.

To capture feeling,

A glimpse expressed—

Where volumes fail.

one dance,

one song,

one scene,

Will do.