Today was all about languages, cultures, food, native speakers, dances and in between they are translations from one to the next. These patchworks of tradition and culture are both inspiring and elusive. It reminds you of the meaning that hides in plain sight, the beauty of every stitch that brings things together. For me, this poem was about a late one, which stitches the day and the night together. Good evening my world in any language you can comprehend, for now I write till the night ends.
Patchwork
Why bother about the little things
Of what can be and what has been
We are patchworks being stitched in time
Till I no longer know what is yours or mine
We are translations in every language you know
Feelings that you still refuse to show
Because not everything can be captured in a while
In neither pain, not even a faint smile.
We are written in every way from left to right or otherwise
Hidden in the best possible way, in plain sight
We are patchworked lives, comprehended in day
Patterns emerge and some differences they dissolve away
This must be how parts of my world appear to you
From far away, sometimes too far to follow through
In words, dialects and meanings alike
We are patchworked imperfections, some yours & some mine
Patchwork
Why bother about the little things
Of what can be and what has been
We are patchworks being stitched in time
Till I no longer know what is yours or mine
We are translations in every language you know
Feelings that you still refuse to show
Because not everything can be captured in a while
In neither pain, not even a faint smile.
We are written in every way from left to right or otherwise
Hidden in the best possible way, in plain sight
We are patchworked lives, comprehended in day
Patterns emerge and some differences they dissolve away
This must be how parts of my world appear to you
From far away, sometimes too far to follow through
In words, dialects and meanings alike
We are patchworked imperfections, some yours & some mine
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