Once they told me I couldn’t speak

So I yelled        I conjured love           I sang

            I prayed and moaned

I wrote             I recited healing thoughts

            Then, I also spoke

                        But when I spoke they laughed at my accent:

So I wrote more poetry just so that I could expose it even more

Turned my accent into seeds and planted them deep within my soul



I painted my accent,               made an offering to my Mother Tongue

            Blood offering, feathers and honey and all kinds of foods

                        I praised my tongue, I spoke  

            I accented my existence

Because I don’t speak plainish

            I speak with Spice.