When Language is Lost

Our mother tongue, left to quiver

a constant, intolerable hum

a curated force, a dam through the river.

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Sweet, forgotten language, precious as silver,

words held greater than the sum

our mother tongue, left to quiver,.

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You cry, I’ve adapted to the whims of the settler

native joy, now rare to come

a curated force, like a dam controlling the river.

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Your words hold the din of a long-neglected lover

memories of a homeland left numb

our mother tongue, left to quiver,.

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They came and ripped away everything that once made her.

They’ve had centuries to think us dumb,

a curated force, a dam through the river,

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In the silence left by the oppressor

I won’t think of our past, but rather drown myself in shame or rum

our mother tongue, left to quiver,

a curated force, a dam through the river.