Unuttered Words

A hushed heart hears
the unuttered word.
Sri Aurobindo

Unuttered words are everywhere around us.
They hang beside each maple leaf in autumn.
They lie at the trunk of every bare tree
   that stands quietly in snow.
They rest inside every spring bud that ever formed.
Unuttered words speak silently
   in the pinks that announce certain sunrises,
      in the golds that accompany harvest evenings,
         in the yellows of every perfect daffodil
            (as if there were any other kind).
Unuttered words, the Indian poet wrote,
   need a hushed heart to hear them.
A stilled mind.
A quieted soul.
I believe there is a particular sense
   in which a carefully and lovingly held camera
      does something quite similar:
   it registers unuttered words
      that are constantly being formed.
It is a privilege of a hushed photographer
   and a speechless camera
      to become together the midwife
         that helps these unuttered words come to life.