Victoria Marie Page. 11.01.2017.

je suis, from two tongues
the native and the mother
the mother or truer to say the child
tongue – the language I was born

I learnt how to think
my first thoughts
in French and English,
but as I grew up I grew out of French. I stopped thinking
bit by bit,
my opened mind narrowed.
My feet had straddled a river, a rushing torrent
underneath, I was strong, feet firmly rooted
into either side.
A body bridging a tongue split in two.

Neglected our bodies weaken,
bricks were never replaced and
I hung there,
over the water, in suspension.
In the desire to fit in,
I cut off my foot and threw it down the river.

The forgotten mother,
she was cut in two,
The mother in my mouth.

In colonisation the hegemonic tongue silences and kills.
No longer able to sound my thoughts
I have turned deaf
no longer able to hear them.
The unthought
I feel this loss in my psyche.
I sit in the empty space touching that which never was

I have never been good at speaking
articulating myself
I have lost those words that have created my thoughts.
Movement forms words at my feet
voicing the unthinkable.
My mother is reborn,
through my mouth, my arms, my belly.
Together again
two tongues.

Image from: