Laurie Doctor, from Her Sketchbook,
Lettering as Landscape
FIELD AS AUDITORIUM
You say my messages did not get through
What sound do messages make as they
lose themselves in the ether
glissando diminuendo
What is the sound of my lost language
I hear a lilt and dive, music only
yr hen iaith fy nhadau
a few passwords clicking from the keys
If I had said the things I wish now
that I had said, what would have been
the tone of her voice in answer
What did her smile sound like
I don’t remember, she is so quiet
in her photograph, black and white, gazing off
What is the sound of a leaf falling
What kind of ear could hear it
as it shivers the air and slides down the wind
tremulo and thrum, pick-pick
the same as the grass growing but in reverse
What was the last call of the last ivory-billed woodpecker
over the ordinary check-check twitter shrill peep
at dusk the end of November
________________
Maura High
Note: The line in Welsh adapts a phrase in the national anthem of Wales: “Yr hen wlad fy nhadau” (the old land of my fathers), changing “wlad” for “iaith” (language), which is invoked later in the song.