But do we see a rubber stamp,
or hear approving seal drop down
on changing terms, the vocab test,
as world adopts the new textspeak,
a common language for the globe?
Erasing native tongues, said threat,
and yet the tower of Babel set
as model where we would be gods,
confusing to our babble selves,
so not articulating whole?
I speak with those of other lands,
as to those deaf and dumb beside
by gesture of my face and hands.
But where communication’s lost
is cross the generation’s bridge.
Companions sharing bread and path
unite around a common bond;
those younger neither hear nor see,
their ears plugged into media,
as focus not on me but screen.
And so I am screened out by veil,
swirl whorling fog of finger tips;
those prints that once identified
translated into mobile words
that leave blank page of magic spells.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com