A Language Without Words

wrote this poem while traveling south.
-Maura

You say you'll take me on a journey for free,
One with glasses filled of amber and enough rice for two.
The soul is being fed with the quiet rumble of the streets,
As the dusty roads become paved routes
While the taste of blood and sweat only lasts in a memory.

My glistening Mekong has been traded for buildings and Tuk Tuk drivers,
Only little boys let their privates show and bums stick out,
Are you trying to be cheeky?

Yes, I long to run naked with you through the streets of heat,
And ignore the cat calls that ask for nothing by money.
Together we can become strips of light,
White,
Never stopping to fill our lungs,
But eager to make angels in the sand
And cart wheels in the water.

We drink to the dirty river
And mumble awkwardly,
Searching for what once gave us joy, now lost at bay.

But don't be mistaken in thinking I have lost an identity,
That I am running from what I once knew,
For I am only searching for a language that doesn't depend on words,
Where desire originates from the soul of the universe,
And when you want something with all your heart,
You will feel closest to the soul of the world.