I wish I could take language
And fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead.
I would wrap words on your wrists.
'There, there,' my words would say —
Or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
'Hush' and 'Shh, shhh, it's all right.'
I would ask them to hold you all night.
I wish I could take language
And daub and soothe and cool
Where fever blisters and burns,
Where fever turns yourself against you.
I wish I could take language
And heal the words that were the wounds
You have no names for.
-- Julia Margaret Cameron
