My language is as thick as my mother’s

it was passed down to me like the curves

of my sharp Xs and j-like expressions on Ys

now carried over the seas slowly forgetting expressions

my tongue is as sharp as a two-edged sword

it can slice you to bits without you even noticing the brutal I—

barbeque that I slay when it’s meant to be BBQ

my language is the diviner of roads

knocking on the knock knock beetle

as I crack open the clicks on my tongue

Irqika lendlela luqoqothwane

I was bred by deep souls of culture

so engraved in my blood refusing to deteriorate

like my name uMinenhle

the beautiful afternoon that people turn down

because of their ungifted unsharp tongues

they don’t know that I climb up over mountains as spirits flow through my tongue

I am a knock knock beetle

I am after all my mother’s daughter

the road’s imigwaqo

the traffic light’s robots

the flows of my qa qe qi qo qus

are the chewings of xhaku xhaku

and the spitting out of seeds from people

undeserving of my mother tongue?