Poetry of Issue 9: the language of gods

I would like to know if you speak

or understand the language of gods

of course gods do not exist

and all metaphors are a translation

I would like to know if when looking at the tree

you can see the seed as well as the trunk ablaze

if you feel how the great weight of centuries

comes together in a single moment

if in your heart the planets and the atoms

have the same size because this is the key

I would like to know if

words mean things to you and something else too

much more than that and after this much more

they go on    life and feet          the hand

always remains extended towards that mask

ours is a syntactic conspiracy

and those who reorder the words

put the world itself in order

we are born in córdoba london or in burzaco

that boy who is now scribbling on paper

in a courtyard in prague

is not yet aware he is making

his first downstrokes in the language of gods

ours is not a language

frozen and secret         it is the language of gods

with infinite dialects and regional accents

or perfect colloquialisms 

mestizo dark and impure as it is

it is also transparent and clear

speaking it you speak with the living and the dead

time is a lie space an illusion

and as someone once said

reading is another form of telepathy

there are false minters speculators

word traders childish beggars

but no one speaks about or understands what they are told

restless       time and time again the language of gods

one merely babbles another distorts another prostitutes

but the language is always ignored

gods do not hear it when they speak it

they only listen rustling their silences

we have had warrior priests

and martyrs                   it is our tradition

to know to love to dare and to keep quiet

as the good health of words dictates

this is why I would like to know if you speak

if you understand the language of the gods