Through the front door
of language,
my indisputable wealth.

And the side door
of presumption:
I should be able to give it

like packets of food
to the hungry;
grams of syntax and meanings.

I followed the river
of others' hardships
that empties

into the lonely basin
of stories without tenses,
stories of what was left.

I did not use a map:
my lexicon was enough,
with all its sated nouns,

to escort me
through the alleys
where they lived:

Cambodian farmer,
who knew the taste of bark.
Ethiopian bride,

Stunned and regal.
Haitian grandmother,
singing lullabies.

Speak with us, they said,
in their own tongues.
And listen.

Jeri Bayer is curriculum and assessment coordinator at Northeast SABES. She is also the coauthor of the new GED social studies book for McGraw-Hill/Contemporary. She can be reached at: jeribayer@aol.com