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by LIFE MAZI 4 years ago in social commentary

A Poem

Photo by Franck V. on Unsplash

When I speak English there is an occasional stutter

Or two

But oftentimes the words that pour from my mouth

Like holy water flowing from a sculpture

Can penetrate through your ears

Like warm butter

And shake hands with your brain.

English begins to vibrate from my throat,

Bounces like bass on my tongue

And swims to you in vibrations;

Wrapping around you like a comfy jumper.

I feel like me when I speak English.

Not an imposter or an actress

But the real me

(Though admittedly not in its entirety).

Thoughts are more kind to me,

And so are gestures from

Me

To me.

Turkish is different and difficult.

My tongue feels heavy and

As though it is working in slow motion.

My lips feel sticky

As though they're trying to glue themselves together.

My throat's tunnels get dry and croaky,

So my voice comes out like an airy whisper;

Like a baby bat in pain

Whimpering for help from its mother

Who is not there.

Sweat oozes from my body

As though it is trying to drown itself

Or save itself from the fiery thoughts

That boil when I'm forced to speak Turkish.

This is a small part of me I can't portray properly

- But it is still me.

Turkish is not the enemy

But like music

Which must be practised and perfected.

By accepting it more I will

Give myself the biggest

Gift

To me,

From me.

social commentary

LIFE MAZI

A RELIC OF GROWTH

Read next: Windemere Peaks

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