The Journey of Life (C) Jennifer Phillips.
M’amie Katya, dit Kate (My friend Katya, called Kate)
Pausing one day after a greeting,
Kate said, “I so wish
I could speak to you
In Russian;
It’s such a beautiful language.”
This she did not say--
“Beautiful as the crying
of my children their first words
Sad as the final words of my mother;
Soft as my first murmured songs on the guitar
Joyful as the chatter of my classmates in our youth
Warm as the smells in my kitchens
Amidst foreign smells outside.”
She did not say,
“All the languages I spoke over the world
To get coffee, groceries, work and housekeeping done
Those cover me like patched rags
None of these words warm me--
Even love
blared in a dozen languages and musics
fails to sound
like the lost sweet whispered love
I grew up with.
Now I unwrap my life
Dozens of dolls in a row
Searching for the final, the substantial
Wrapping--
And end with those words of home
Inside me which never tear, give, or break
Even when I do—“
All this went unsaid.
So did my response,
Except
A simple “Me too, Katya.”
(First published as "My Friend Katya, called Kate" Rivers Meeting, Bemidji State,2009.)