The poem is about my experience of changing native language to writing in English.
New soul
Collection of letters in another font. What is more simple and usual than this? A place to reinvent me, a place to create me, different. Forget about the past, not think about the near future. With letters not connected to my blood Create an unfamiliar life, not a better Just another. To hide, to find the current shape. To give a chance to unknown beginning To start a road to untouched stories. And words foreign at first taste Became a fresh base for the broken soul. To choose a language, accept regenerated faith. And read and whisper in a sound Which became your reborn voice. I found a language for my soul My body resonates with it and cries In hope of reinventing the breathing.
' I found a language for my soul
My body resonates with it and cries
In hope of reinventing the breathing.'
Moving home and hearth is not always worth the effort. There is so much to leave behind and so much to remember. There is both tragedy and courage in your words, each laid with candour and yet the occasional pause. A tear drop, perhaps? A special poem, here, displayed with elegance. Many, many thanks for sharing.
' I found a language for my soul
My body resonates with it and cries
In hope of reinventing the breathing.'
Moving home and hearth is not always worth the effort. There is so much to leave behind and so much to remember. There is both tragedy and courage in your words, each laid with candour and yet the occasional pause. A tear drop, perhaps? A special poem, here, displayed with elegance. Many, many thanks for sharing.
this reminds me of why some of us use pseudonyms....either because it is a different part of us who writes the poetry...but also to hide behind that font, that voice...Emily Dickinson published only 11 of her poems in her lifetime and anonymously....maybe she used a different font with her quill, to hide. I like the realness of your poetry.
j.