My Regrets
My regrets are speaking softly,
Guttural sounds too low for me to hear
And in a tongue strange to my ear
But ominous as a black cloud,
And I fear that one day
The Tower of Babel will lean in,
Grinding on ancient stones,
And unlock those odious words for me,
Revealing everything I already knew
Was wrong
But refused to accept.
Copyright © Jonathan Zeitlin | Year Posted 2023
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