They ask me do I speak their tongue,
And I am forced to answer no,
For I knew it when I was young,
However the words no longer flow.
And it’s this absence that they shame
For they believe I’ve forgotten my place,
Can I even pronounce my name?
Can I even recognise their features on my face?
I feel like a foreigner in my own home land,
Like a clueless tourist easily lost,
Who walks over unknown sand,
Whose westernised customs must pay the cost.
But I know the culture, I know my people
I’ve seen the country inside out,
Still a huge part of me feels illegal,
Without the language, how do I know what it’s truly about,
An old lady passing by stops to stare,
I feel uncomfortable in her gaze,
I avoid all eye contact, expecting a glare,
But when I look up it’s a smile she seems to raise,
She hands me some fruit with a glint in her eyes,
A small part of me cowers in guilt,
For I forgot the most treasured prize,
Pride – hidden within these walls I’ve built.
How I desperately want to thank her,
But no words can come to my throat,
For the few words I do know project as a blur,
I wish to speak from the heart, not some memorised quote.
And now I’m trying to understand it,
Learning to speak it for a change,
It’s not an easy path, I admit
The words come out all strange,
But it’s worth it in the end,
For it connects us all as one,
Don’t rely on just one language,
You might even end up having fun.