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.