“my language my culture”

My language twists beneath my tongue,  
Soft syllables pulse where I belong.  
It hums through halls at early dawn,  
Alive in stories my kin have drawn.  

It weaves a tapestry, old and bright,  
A mother’s song in quiet night,  
The warmth of laughter, sacred, deep,  
Secrets the ancient elders keep.  

My culture lives in dancing feet,  
Spices swirling in the summer heat,  
Favorite meals we shape by hand,  
Patterns echoing the mountain’s stand.  

From painted walls to prayers we share,  
To how we braid our children’s hair—  
Each custom, word, and lullaby  
A colored thread that cannot die.  

Though worlds may press and time may spin,  
My language, culture, thrums within—  
A living river, bold, and free,  
The home forever calling me.

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