~Poems~

Language

The language that is so very slowly disappearing from me

I'm still lingering onto it

The language that is so tightly tied to my childhood

My second mother tongue that knows its way in my mouth

The culture that is slowly washing away

I try to stop it

But there's no air to keep this fire alive, no matter how hard I blow

The language with so much pain and blood weaved into its history

The one with its finest threads spun during the agony I suffered through

It was the one used to smack me right in the face and make me crumble

The most resentful words I know are weaved into it

Memories I rather forget has its seams

But such a beautiful language

It's the one that makes me stand out and it's such a part of me

One of my first languages and that has followed me since I understood words

Just a language, it can't do any real harm

Even with the agony in its seams and all of the most resentful words I know, it hurts to have it slowly slipping away

It's a part of me, maybe that's why

It's stitched into the fabric that is me, if not literally weaved in, and now it's ripping at the seams

The threads that make the core of who I am all have its hue in the undertones

I can't lose it, because when I do, I'll lose my history

A painful history, surely, but a history that belongs to me

I understand all of those resentful words, kind words and everything else for a reason

I know its stitches, seams and threads by heart

Spoken by millions for who knows how many reasons

Such a beautiful language, that I feel like I'm losing