This Immovable Block

I need to write.

My head's so full of things unsaid my skull keeps threatening to split, and days pile in layers under my skin cuz I can't find the words to say to dispel them.
My emotions leak into the cooking and the evening meal is drowning in too much spice: an angry curry, bitter salad, noodles salty and wet with weeping. My family swallows the excess and we all have stomach aches.

Where are my words? I swear I used to hold them in my hands like bright treasure, the facets winking with myriad meaning. I strung them on silk threads and silver chain and spider webs and on display they would wink in the sun. Now the threads are all knotted and the gems vanished into leaves and dirt like so much fairy money. I cannot hear the music that makes the words flow. My head buzzes like a detuned radio. None of these metaphors are right!

And everybody says that its ok and everybody says not to worry and to wait, do not panic or be afraid, it's only neurons in your brain misfiring.

And what these heathens do not understand, is "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God."

That is the weight of what I have lost.