Your Tongue

Your tongue does not know the melodies of its motherland. 

Masquerading as one of their people

Your heavy name the only trinket to your home 

 Pronunciation washed down with that coloniser accent

You were told a language is still living if new words 

are constantly added to it. 

You wonder if your language is dying

It was never passed down to you

Or your father or your father’s father. 

A language we will soon only read about.

By Imou Eparis