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This poem explores our understanding of the ability to speak in tongues, given to the disciples at Pentecost, by relating it to our understanding, or otherwise, of the language of music.

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I cannot read music.
Those lines and dots
and strangely curving symbols
are merely patterns
filling up a page.

I cannot play music.
Black and white keyboards,
stringed instruments
and tubes of wood, or brass,
are dead in my hands,
silent to my lips.

I cannot sing music -
not with any confidence.
My lips frame words.
My voice sounds tuneless
to my own ears
and I am wary
of letting others hear
my faltering efforts.

Music is a foreign language to me.
And I am as incompetent in that
as I am in other tongues....


Strange Tongues is taken from the Book 'NOTHING TOO RELIGIOUS' by Andrew Pratt & Marjorie Dobson - Click Here

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