by Marie Elena
She used to speak with longing
Of faraway lands,
Of engaging the charmingly unique folks,
Of getting a first-hand sense of their lives abroad.
“But I don’t speak the language”
Always kept her stateside.
She used to speak effortlessly
Of shores she knew only through books.
Slowly, nearly imperceptibly at first,
She noticed words were not
“What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes …”
She began speaking less,
As words needed time to percolate to the surface,
And that took time folks didn’t seem to have.
She eventually quit speaking.
She didn’t know the language.