Unnamable You

Stories survive, stone walls crumble but words still tell of you

I can speak of Medea, tell of Odysseus, but not you

in a world without wheely-bins where wooden ships once sailed

where honor was most of the law, beliefs only in what you saw

you were unnamable but all knew who you were

you were their hope their destiny their goal

except for rubble there's no trace now that world was a mythic place

 of witches, warriors, tyrant kings where pottery was precious

there were no disposable things just half lemon rind spoons on twigs

still our hope is unnamable still there would be tyrant kings

unspoken words still tell of our hope our Swainson thrush singing

far off in the woods a free bird unheard when head phone enslaved 

unspoken hopes never described unmentionable written down

unnamable you 

Dick Russell (C) Richard M Russell

                         2024