Language Carrier

My children speak to me
In tongue my mother never heard
Until they spoke to me

I speak it too
At work
At church
And when they cannot understand
Some remonstration from the English side

Their tongue is older
Wiser in its way
Soon I’ll be dipping in its poetry

I am myself a sort of soup
By both inheritance
And whim
My mongrel tongue
Has bred with other tongues
In other lands
The Slavic
And the slavish
Circled round
To dance with French again
Flirted with Greek
Lay long with Hebrew
Felt a German kiss
Never settled quite till almond eyes
Pinned me half-struggling to a wall

(c) 2012 Mark Penny