…sometimes, there is more English in me than I can bear; somedays, I cannot find all of my mother tongue, and I cringe at how polluted my mouth has become, how diluted my identity…

In these moments, I feel a dissonance within, where my words betray the roots that anchor me. The language of my heart and heritage slips through my fingers, replaced by foreign syllables that feel alien on my tongue. This blending, this fusion of tongues, seems to erode the essence of who I am, leaving a trace of sadness in its wake. My mouth, once a vessel of rich, cultural narratives, now struggles to hold on to its authenticity. Each borrowed word feels like a step further from home, a dilution of the vibrant identity that defines me. And so, I grapple with this internal conflict, yearning to reclaim the purity of my origins, to let my true voice resound once more. 😔

©️ Beatriz Esmer