Language :: Mediation

Behind me, slightly to the right

            They meet with mixed language

            Of a homeland, nasally

            A place closer to their head

                                          Than heart

They have never been there

Only taught of it

“I know”

his jerky laugh is American

I feel her slick black hair swing

            She leans in

            Reshuffles his feet on wood

The timid interest and awkward translates

            As they flirt with language

            Shy to a bond they have of heritage

To their own

                       They have an accent

                       Broken verbiage

To I

                       Yet another accent

                       Interrupted

They stand on ripples together

Grounded on planks that make us what we are

            Speaking a tongue of their own

            A mediation they both know as themselves 

Author's Note

All comments welcome.