How I Wish You Do Not Understand My Language

speaking in tongues the drops of light fall on the pavement
of the church, worse, there were heads banging against other heads
and beards. Birds fly away, upon a thud of a pod,
pudding, leaves heaping, trees shedding off heaps of leaves,
and church bells ringing, i drag my feet drugged against the
ragged tags of the rugged rags, Sham, It is still painful.
How i wish you do not understand my language, Yet you
are speaking it, like i am the sham shaman of the shah of tehran.

it is your wedding day. I am here.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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