Rebirth/Death

When the last word
of English is spoken,
when it finally dies
and is forgotten,

everything we know
will disappear into the forest
where the ghost languages
recall their recounting

of feasts, lovers, wars
and memory, descriptions
of mountains and oceans,
specific words for snow,

sand, arrow, child,
mother, warrior, wine, bread,
chill, dawn, night, embrace,
holy, evil, baker, poet, song.

It will not matter. Someone from the next
dominant species will begin again,
trying to snare fact in the wind.
It’s always been thus: one voice fails

but the world itself remains to stimulate
the next voice to falter, gain strength,
describe the truth before it. The silence
breaks and then washes back into place.