The spoken word of a child is often overlooked,
What the newborn says is more then often severly mistook
As garbage, as ignorance, as foolishness, as naiveté of word...
But didn't we used to think the same
Of the other cultures that we so lured
Into the trap of conformity?
English as a savior,
Begot from Christianity?
The language WE speak must be in the right!
The way most people think runs along the lines of thus,
But you've got to ask yourself, sometimes...
Who are they to themselves if we are we to us?
Stunning thought to leave the reader at the end...I have contemplated using other various lexicons to discuss a similar linguistics paradox. Well done! Valerie Serendipity Anderson Sarge Street Studios
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Crisis of cultural identity, eh? Too true though. Also, well written, a short sharp sweet one.