BABEL

I sit…

Watching as there conversed in a language I wish I knew

With tongues diving like athletes in a pool of dialects

I wish mine could swim too

I wish my lips could be baptized just as theirs were

Where was I?

When Babel fell and everyone partook of its communion

Maybe I was too busy studying the tongue of the white man, init?

Too engrossed in phonetics and diphthongs

And now my tongue is sent on exile from origin

But who is to blame?

Me or Dad and Mom?

Who watched me grow but never circumcised my tongue early enough

Never gave me native tongue lessons

Never told me Africa’s heritage was in the dynamics of its tradition

That I would become familiar stranger when I left the confines of home

That buying and selling won’t be easy

So what legacy do I leave for my descendants?

Will they follow my path or create theirs

Will their tongues stay blunt as mine?