Unspoken

Words
come so easily to my mind
of what I will say to you.

Then I am with you
and they are gone
deleted in an instant,
irretrievable.

I practice
and tell myself
I will be clear
and precise
and reasonable.
But my precision fades,
my clarity muddles,
and I am quiet,
except for the voice
shouting in my head
that I should have said something.

Perhaps I should write to you,
record my thoughts while still coherent.
Then I won't be swayed by
emotional response,
trying to read your mind,
or fear of rejection.

It is easy to remain silent
on the most important of topics,
filling instead verbal space with trivia.

I want to tell you
that "it is appointed for men to die once,
but after this the judgment."
I don't want you to be under judgment.

You need an advocate.

You need the Savior.