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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required At times, Spanish becomes An incomprehensible Tangle of strange words Like strange woods And unfamiliar sounds That roll like hills And confuse my senses- English is my natural Habitat, but to my lover, English is a new land Which still feels altogether Unfamiliar under his feet... So in the moments We cannot find enough Common ground to Communicate with Spoken words, We've learned to Read eachother Like maps- He doesn't need labels To recognize the shape Of my expression; He uses the curve of My lips as a landmark- He has studied the course Of my tears like inlets And the sigh of my breath Like waves against The coastline, since I swore that my arms Would always be His harbor- He has traced the planes Of my face with his fingers Until he knows them like The back of his hand... His hands are as familiar To me now as As my own backyard... His palms are traced With lines that wind like The rivers of Guatemala That he swam in as a child, Or like borders, But they are always Open since his hands Are like a compass- When being lost feels Like loneliness, They lead me into His arms- When the world keeps Sliding around like Fault lines, they Lead me back onto Solid ground- When a storm blows me Off-course, they lead me Back home... It's funny how Being with him Is like reading a map Of a foreign country, And yet... Will still lead me Home.
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