by Rina S.
I speak in two languages, really
One that’s full of my family’s laughterÂ
and the other is shaped by the world
outside of my front door.
Some days they intermingle
like colored threads in a rug
Each passing the other, no questions asked.
Other times, they stumble into one another
and get tangled up
like an awkward conversation at a wedding.
You could swear each language
wanted to be the first one to get out
But, whenever I speak, no matter which language,
I am able to carry my entire family with me
my grandmother’s voice, my mother’s, my friends.
I can also hear voices I am yet to grow into
Neither of my languages are pieces of me
Rather, they act like a series of mirrors
Each reflecting a different part of my growing soul
So, whenever I transition from one to the other,
it’s not confusion, it’s music
The rhythm is only for me to beat.
Art by Mila Ruiz, “The Language” Â
About the Author
Rina is an emerging writer who blends her multicultural background into thoughtful, reflective work.