I have an ear for the language of conquerors

The cadence of tyrants trips lightly off my tongue

It does no good to hope

It does no good to hurt

It does no good to cry

Isolated like an island

Divided by a sea of language

Reduced by a lack of knowledge

I cannot swim to shore

I can only cry for help

In a tongue that will never be mine

I speak the language of imperialism

For when they conquered us

They silenced our song

And tried to erase us.

I search through books written by the conquerors

To explain to me a history that is not my own

But that is pressed into my skin

I am hal...

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