Dear 母语,

A first language not English instructed your mother to cook a rubber ducky Melodically singing a communist song on a bus of red and blue

Slowly language faded, vocal cords knotted Walking up the stairs with your mother you told her you wish your voice sounded like hers She knew her voice was a shield

Like an umbilical cord, her voice tethered to yours Mothers mother, unable to tell the difference between you two now White smile and dark tones still peeking through long distance phone calls

With her Mandarin my mother is forgiven for what I am not

A capitalist accent she is not required to hide, for how could she?

Yellow paint draws expectation eyes track the yellow line and American accent

Is this the difference I searched for?

Shift in tone chiseled by expectation

Cheeks brushed red with guilt by a language I felt ashamed to use?

Loose tether, made with red silk string fragility.

Characters that once danced across a page unreadable

A knot set in wax

String cut and replaced with gold chain Jade locking a language away