Foreign Affairs

World’s Apart

My words, dearly departed, the province of

my birth

migratory warblers, their wingless plight

larboard upon the distant shores of ego’s

privatized foreign syllabary, beyond the

gurgling fountains of my youths

noesis of anecdotal voraciousness,

Immigrants, my words sought a home in

new lands, irrespective of the age of my

tittles, my fare — my accents —

the wages of my sin — unrespected,

my translations seek reentry, discourse

with the orthographical soul of my earth,

unprejudiced

In the safe harbors of their obeisant origin,

amongst the peers of their haunting

memory,

to salutate in the independence of their

linear sequence

For what are words of mortal worth,

without the culture of there homeland,

rerouted homeward bound,

they greet their mother tongue

beneath the bisected grammatical pillars of shame,

their traveling suit of a rosy hue,

Pfft, pfft, their lapidary lapels dusting off, nostalgic

sighs of foreign affairs.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. May 2020. All Rights Reserved.