Just revisited this one because it's always annoyed me. I don't know if I made it less annoying to you but I think it might be less annoying for me. Thanks for looking!
Learning to Read Sanskrit
We have dreamed
of touching one another,
bare nerve to naked
synapse, common
language conquering
the certain solitude
from living free
of one’s animal past.
Forgetting
how Aleph signified silver
horns of a sacred herd, hidden
gift of an ebbing moon,
a crescent left to slice
the breathless
dark. So our kindred delved
into stone, seeking the language
of creation so founding
artifice on chaos.
Do you see
the confused
etchings of gull
prints on the beach,
the cuneiform
of winter sun falling
through green,
painting scripture
on firs? Let us speak
the language of trees,
chant the wisdom
of the sea birds.
Shall we go out
under a new moon,
no guide save the cold
distant stars? Shall we trace
the arcane Brahmi forms
that we discover in ancient
sands on the shore?
And when the sun
illuminates our texts,
shall we have learned
to read Sanskrit
in the dark?
1 comment:
I could never get my head around this one. I don't know why, maybe some day.
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