Mother Tongue

 

I never forgot this language—

the way my tongue should roll

when I pronounce the words

 

The accent

and expressions

grab the phrases strongly

 

The sentences

slip out of my mouth

with an ease

 

The pen doesn’t fumble

when I try to form curves

of the alphabets

 

The words are

the warm blanket

in the frost

 

The prose is

the lost home

which I found too late

 

The songs

have a tune which

resonates with my breath

 

I might have left my

mother tongue

but its existence never ceased

within me.