Before we speak

Upon my signal
Let’s travel together
I’ll make it low
Like a scratch of a feather
We’ll convey and tread
Without sounding ever
We’ll find our way
And move with the weather
Upon my signal
Let’s travel together

I’ll lift my foot
And you will see
Our burdens will lighten
When you hold onto me
We’ll move in the sun
So playfully
We’ll quiesce through night
So peacefully
I’ll lift my foot
And you will see

Upon my signal
Let’s travel together
I’ll make it low
Like a scratch of a feather
We’ll move and flow
Without saying, never
We’ll find our path
Our natural endeavor
Upon my signal
Let’s travel together

Post Script

This poem was partly inspired by a 2014 article about intentional gestures among wild chimpanzees. One observation described a mother presenting or lifting her foot as a subtle signal for her infant to climb onto her back. The gesture carried a clear meaning without anything resembling spoken language: come with me.

In the poem, that small signal becomes an intimate moment between two people who see one another closely enough to notice what is barely expressed. A lifted foot, a change in posture, or a quiet movement can become an invitation. Nothing needs to be announced because attention has already made communication possible.

“Our burdens will lighten / When you hold onto me” contains a gentle paradox. To carry another person may add weight, yet being held can make the journey lighter for both. Their movement is shared rather than directed. They travel through sunlight, night, and weather by continually noticing and responding to one another.

The repeated refrain gives the poem the rhythm of a walking song, but the signal remains low, “like a scratch of a feather.” The intimacy depends upon its subtlety. It is not a command issued loudly enough for anyone to hear. It is a nearly silent invitation understood by the particular person for whom it is meant.

The accompanying photograph appears solitary at first: a mountaineer carries a substantial burden across a dark ridge while Mount Fuji fills the distance. Yet the unseen companion within the poem changes the image. The traveler may be alone in the frame, but the invitation remains present: notice my signal, hold onto me, and let us find our way together.

Read beside Savoring silence, the poem becomes part of a small meditation on wordless attention. Here silence permits intimacy and shared movement. There, it gathers around the instant before consequence.

Image credit: Mount Fuji from Mount Aino (1995), by Alpsdake. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0. Source: Wikimedia Commons.