
I couldn’t ascertain the jumble
her lips moved rapidly
conveying a nervous nothing
hard and dark were the etchings
that scored her jeweled beauty
*
his pockets were empty
evidenced by the ragged attire
but worse was what wasn’t in his mind
his hands filled with nothing
he clung to baggies to satisfy
*
strange languages spoken at the ocean
when you aren’t looking and when you are
the conch shell strives to moan a warning
bearing witness to retreating tide
but it was silenced in a museum
*
a dog wears an empty backpack
as he begins his predawn duty
he proudly returns with a filled sack
lacking his master’s understanding
how many children will get hooked today?
*
I’ve never spoken the language
born in guilty bloodshot eyes
I see them as they dart about the shadows
the words are meaningless
promises seldom unbroken
*
I chose to walk in the light
a brush of fingertips tells the bearer I love him
the sun rises behind us
no words are necessary
we bask in His painting on a new day’s sky

“Tears are the silent language of grief.”
Voltaire (Brainy quotes)
Today’s prompt at Poet’s United is “Mother Tongue”. After two early morning beach walks where much was spoken with looks and gestures, I was prompted to interpret the language.