Poetry: I am your language

I am your language trying to learn me I
pick up the haze of its syntax,
the functions of its limbs- I do not know
the phonetics of its musicality, the
sublimation of its mortality, the
music of its people.
I am Schauspieler;
You- mercenary
Loose within its grasps.
A pidgin of our minds
Trying to decipher each other’s structurality.
This is music,
that I need to cultivate a taste for.
Here we begin a sojourn, a vagabondage,
An explosion sweet chilly white rage infused with a molten serenade.
Bring back the rising of your tongue, its descent, and its breath
in a new language. Your own.
I pick up bits of you in the bits of
The parole;
We string together elements unknown to us
To make what is worse–
A familiarity.
Our voices were not meant for this broken assemblage,
But they find themselves flung out
Too far
To go back.
by Tanvi Joshi
Photography – Savni Ranade

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