My Adopted Language
Many things are not explained.
I fell asleep in a sepulchre of words
in my quest for further understanding.
I gathered their meanings one by one
arranging them in patterns
according to colour;
aligning them in rows
according to size.
Some comforted, some injured;
they all tasted different.
Not all of them meant well
and many were ambiguous.
I was bewildered by their variety,
their complex duplicity
and singular simplicity.
Some were sharp and well defined,
others dubious and unrefined.
Although not native to them,
I felt at home in their midst;
and from the time they started
to visit my dreams, I felt accepted
and became one with them,
almost.
You can tell I’m not the real McCoy,
not from the words themselves
but from the way they are strung together:
Byzantine pearls from the Near East
held together by
a Hellenic twist.
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