Poet 25: seldom

Babel

 

Build up a tower to the shining sun,

Ride the far reaches and cross the wide seas.

Where we go, the rhythms of language run,

To new thoughts and new sights they are our keys.

Meanings shift, alter out of all knowing.

But the base beat remains, carries our song,

To new shores, in new words, ever growing,

To describe, to understand, we all long.

But where we gain depth and music, we lose,

The ancient togetherness we once shared.

Where once one people stood, we often choose,

To hide what’s the same, our differences bared.

One day, I hope, we will no longer scorn

But in our understanding be reborn.

 

 

I chose the form of a sonnet to underline the rhythms inborn in language.

 

The End

237 comments about this poem Feed