Me and the languages

115

Me and the languages

Today again the rain came
As an uninvited guest of noon
Secretly I was hearing
Its whispers
Today it was speaking
In a new tongue
(Unlike the other days
In which we had the same lang
And I used to listen to its
Sky romances)
May be it had noticed me
And felt strange too
For I was like a drenched bird
Perched on a low branch
Ignoring the rain totally
Letting the drops to run down
Not wetting the body
Not making it cold and shivering
Simply warm and calm
The sound-drops of its new tongue
Did the pitter-patter on the skin
Of my listening and faded away
(More like the gibberish from a crowd)
When did the languages become
Strange and unknown to me
They stopped entering into my cells
They failed to fan the fire in my cells
Well, the fire in my cells, Oh!, they
Had never ceased their dance
I am on the outer rim
Hearing but not listening
I do not feel the gravity pull
No, not anymore
Is it me beyond the language, or
The languages beyond me?
Anyway, we both are beyond
Each other now,
Me and the languages!

I have started to listen
The language-less talk
Of flowers, butterflies
Mottled leaves
Drifting clouds
Muddy puddles
Each plant has their own
Seasons
Some are having their
Autumn
Yellowing and withering
Some are in their
Spring
Full with colours and fragrance
I simply listen the stories
Of their seasons and season changes
I hear their laughter,
Weeping and sighs too

Moss is growing in the gaps
As the sun forget to talk to them
and they are very much green too

What has changed,
Me or the languages?
Do not know yet
But the change was inevitable!

Sarala

7 thoughts on “Me and the languages

    1. Sarala Ramkamal Post author

      Thank you Louis Kasatkin. It is really encouraging to find one person understood the poem. Yes, it is about our daily existence. Hearing things painful one after another, we move at the end like a screwed doll. Nothing comes inside but bounces back from the skin of our listening.. 🙂

      Reply

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