My Mother’s Tongue

 

My Mother’s Tongue
Nabila Irshad

 

I have long since adored my mother’s
Honey-drenched complexion
As a landmark to my heritage,
Her histories and sufferings
Woven deep within my soul.


Ivory glows emit pearls of wisdom,
For she carries an ocean of eastern tales
In the creases of her aged smile. 
Thousands of words,
Buried in enchanting springs,
Dripping effortlessly,
Over a thousand lifetimes.

It is her knowing eyes.
Such selfless love
Like the sun to the moon,
Sacrificing by day,
And resurrecting by night.


Mortal as we profess to be,
My ancestors will remain
Draped along these cultured bones,
As hues of melanin serenely hum
Into where eternity meets the world of time.

 

Rose.
Coffee.
Gold.
Bodily tapestries will drip,
                                     

drip,

drip.

 

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