raznii yazyiki
Language is such a strange and fickle thing.
it unites, it divides,
it stands as a barrier between people
and serves as the connecting link, the common ground,
a way to identify your own
I hear russian on a crowded sidewalk and my ears perk up,
just as they did when I heard english being spoken
hundreds of feet further down the wagon in the metro in moscow
and I knew someone who understood me was close by.
But then there is the whole other set of languages
that--free of typographical differences--reach deeper parts of us.
My languages:
The jargon of the misplaced modernist,
one who came into consciousness in the brave new world
but who reaches back to a time when mirror theories were limited
and expression was complex but honest.
Moved by softness, but not prettiness,
internal struggle for finding a voice and a sense of universal narrative.
Rothko, Dylan, Lynch.
The liberal arts college cadet,
conversant in Kant,
but in microbiology as well.
Does not need to be filled in on who Camus or Charles Taylor were,
and keeps pace with FDR jokes or Verdi on crosswords.
Reads books, and many; speaks of books, and often;
has a sense of what is good and what is not in everything
and can make a sound argument for said opinion.
Critical without cruelty.
Argues without offense.
Can pronounce Goethe.
The code of the D&C
12 tribes of israel, of the psalms
and the progression from room to room,
who knows my name(s) and is not afraid to speak of weakness
(in themselves, in the system)
but who remains steadfast in truth
without pretense and without showmanship
but with a constancy of goodness and duty and love.
To be heard and understood
intent and all,
that is what I long for.
And, having found someone who speaks it all,
fluent in ErinClare, perfect comprehension,
it hurts to move away from that.
Standing on the subway
and five kids keep saying "sto dollarov"
and then a concatenation of sounds I know
but without meaning attached;
I strain so hard to process all these words I need to look up
to learn a whole set of vocabulary I missed in Moscow,
until I realize they are speaking Serbian.
Why wouldn't you just speak your own language?
it unites, it divides,
it stands as a barrier between people
and serves as the connecting link, the common ground,
a way to identify your own
I hear russian on a crowded sidewalk and my ears perk up,
just as they did when I heard english being spoken
hundreds of feet further down the wagon in the metro in moscow
and I knew someone who understood me was close by.
But then there is the whole other set of languages
that--free of typographical differences--reach deeper parts of us.
My languages:
The jargon of the misplaced modernist,
one who came into consciousness in the brave new world
but who reaches back to a time when mirror theories were limited
and expression was complex but honest.
Moved by softness, but not prettiness,
internal struggle for finding a voice and a sense of universal narrative.
Rothko, Dylan, Lynch.
The liberal arts college cadet,
conversant in Kant,
but in microbiology as well.
Does not need to be filled in on who Camus or Charles Taylor were,
and keeps pace with FDR jokes or Verdi on crosswords.
Reads books, and many; speaks of books, and often;
has a sense of what is good and what is not in everything
and can make a sound argument for said opinion.
Critical without cruelty.
Argues without offense.
Can pronounce Goethe.
The code of the D&C
12 tribes of israel, of the psalms
and the progression from room to room,
who knows my name(s) and is not afraid to speak of weakness
(in themselves, in the system)
but who remains steadfast in truth
without pretense and without showmanship
but with a constancy of goodness and duty and love.
To be heard and understood
intent and all,
that is what I long for.
And, having found someone who speaks it all,
fluent in ErinClare, perfect comprehension,
it hurts to move away from that.
Standing on the subway
and five kids keep saying "sto dollarov"
and then a concatenation of sounds I know
but without meaning attached;
I strain so hard to process all these words I need to look up
to learn a whole set of vocabulary I missed in Moscow,
until I realize they are speaking Serbian.
Why wouldn't you just speak your own language?