“listen, not all languages can
make the kind of music you want.”
—Abdullah Adedokun
You see this language of mine
is a ballet of heritage beating with ancestral pride,
ede abi ni bi temi leyi, it lets me sway to my own rhythm.
Look, my own father did not teach me how to ravel my tongue
against a foreigner’s language like it is a possession —
and I mean to say— I embraced my mother’s tongue
until each syllable glued my lips like gloss.
You too, scolding your son, making nothing sear his buds
better than home like it is a sin, Speak English, David!
And you know, you know we only craft our own melody
through our mother tongues, tell me, how do you make one
when the syllables still hurt your tongue
like a bite?
*ede abi ni bi temi leyi — This is my mother tongue
This poem emerged as the first-place winner in the 2nd edition of the African Teen Writers Awards for Poetry.
