#943 - languages of the lost

 

6.viii.22

943

3.216

languages of the lost

 

are spoken down into the dust

in books as well deep dark

 

who’ll listen?

 

just a mouthful of words left

hold on to

a list of just last breaths

 

who will keep the record?

who will sweep the stone?

 

yes it’s grief to be

to go

a grief to come to this

 

lost languages are holy writ

and silent till the truth

 

you won’t know what’s a blessing

won’t recognize a curse

 

these are all set out in the sky

someone’s digging

 

it’s a burnt stick poke

it’s a telescope

 

a hole in the sky

in a cloud

in your head

 

and here we are

 

for a word tomb

it’s the telling of nothing to no one

 

myself an open book

and guess the tongue that held

 

a language has been slept away

was cut down at the root

 

this is a kind of script ghosts keep

blind fumble where the map’s to mulch

 

so beautifully the dead speak

eloquent the air they’ve left

 

here are the lost

will we look for ourselves?

 

only in spent codices

no one will decipher

 

lost languages are sacred

 

so this is one of them

will be

 

these less than words

this fracture of the page

come lit

 

and they are all we have to be

 

a lovely pinking last

so high

 

we’re all from very far