Friday, July 27, 2012

I was not born with your language (or, Insecurities)



I was not born with your language
Yours is meant for deities
Mine is the language of mortals
Simple, normal, practical, banal.

I was not born with your language
You string words like daisy chain
Pretty, fragile, sometimes full of pain
I forge mine like steel -- cold, hard, unfeeling.

I was not born with your language
I do not write poems of longing, loving, losing.
I cannot write you odes like the poetess
Who caressed you with her words.

I was not born with your language
You were not born with mine
How do we make this last
When we speak in different tongues?



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