When Language is Lost
A villanelle poem
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.
About the Creator
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Honey Bunny
I walked into the room, and John started to sing: Ohhh... John is so smart and Denise is a fart Ohhh... John is a tart And the laughter was on... I said, "Oh really, you are a tart? Perfect! I will not forget this! Serves you right for calling me a fart!!"
By Denise E Lindquist6 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Omgggg, this is sooo true! Idk why but younger generations these days are embarrassed to speak their mother tongue. Loved your poem!
Your use of the river/dam imagery is incredible. Beautifully written and deeply emotional.