My Foreign Tongue

They call my spoken words "slang"
I aspirate my 't's  and stretch my  'e's;
I  sound the schwa and speak with a twang,
I  chatter like a bird in my foreign tongue.

I  tell the world of my stories of old,
My pains, my ills, my grief untold; 
They heard of me like bells that rang, 
Through my glib foreign tongue. 

I break the news, I squeal the truth 
I echo the cry for justice so long; 
I whisper my love, I shout my demand, 
I claim the rights, to my people belong. 

I air my gripes, I plead for peace, 
I  speak my mind, my pleasures I release;
Ideas unheard, I express with grace, 
In my foreign tongue I speak with ease.

 
I talk to the breeze, 

Far across and over the seas; 
I lull the song my folks have sung, 
In  my borrowed foreign tongue. 

The door before me, 

My folks close with a bang; 
They call me fool, my past I flung, 
Because I speak in a foreign tongue. 

But if I speak not in my foreign tongue, 

The lyre of my people shall never be strummed;
My life's sweet symphony shall remain unsung,
For in my native tongue, the world is dumb. 

May the anitos of my forefathers forgive me,
I use my foreign tongue not because of loyalty; 
I did because I must, out of necessity, 
Or else, my voice shall be doomed to obscurity.