Posted in Musings and Reflections

Do You Speak My Languish?

I prefer the older definitions. They seem less negative, more nuanced.

(archaic)
pine with love or grief.
“she still languished after Richard”
(archaic)
assume or display a sentimentally tender or melancholy expression or tone.
“when a visitor comes in, she smiles and languishes”

This then is an ode to the languishing. It is a place where one has arrived to find broken dreams, unfinished projects, hoped for successes all for naught.

Mr. Hughes spoke of holding fast to dreams, and mine remain close. Yet, I still feel like a broken winged bird that cannot fly, confused, shot from the sky by the unrealized.

Perhaps the time for holding fast is done.

I wonder if languishing is simply another word for letting go.

I do not like this place.

I am afraid.

I do not want to be labeled lazy.

And yet action for action sake is “sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

The tendency is to move! move, damnit!

Who or what determines a life’s success?

Do I still have a good heart, as she told me long ago? Perhaps I will ask her that today.

As my tongue lies thick in my mouth, while I try to learn this new language of languish.

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