My words are translations
of my breathing and are hard to say
in your language.
My tongue, my teeth, my lips
can barely pronounce the words
from my country
where the mountains are steep,
the valleys dark
and cannot be reached without effort
I wish I could tell you how beautiful
it is where I live
and have you understand my language
and hear what I want to say to you.
Listen and you can hear me speaking to you
as clearly as I can
about my country.
You will hear my heart singing
and know the river flowing through my veins.
Just look into my eyes
when I try to speak and you may see
what I can’t say.
You might see beyond my faltering words
the sunlight from my country.
You might even see the shadows
of late afternoons and smell the sweetness
of the air I swallow,
the taste I live to devour
and I wouldn’t have to say
It is where I would take you
if you want to follow.
But, oh, it is difficult
to speak with words that do not breath,
still, I struggle to translate
in your tongue what I want to tell you.
One day, perhaps, I will find a way
to speak and not stutter,
not grope for words.
Perhaps, I will know how to say
simply what I have been trying to
and you will be touched
in places few have reached.
You will know the happiness
and sorrow I have known.
You will feel in the silence
between my words
the love swelling in my breath
and we can be together
for a little while
loving one another
before we part.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/my-words-are-translations.aspx">My Words are Translations</a>