It is both freeing and constricting. I long to know it but it slips out of my mouth and out of my grasp leaving me voiceless, powerless.
I blame and blame those who could have shown me how to capture it, keep it satisfied and well-acknowledged but I neglected it, nevertheless, until it shrivelled and fell limp. The muscle that opened the most doors to me was not part of my hand and it suddenly closed me off from my ancestry, this foreign, unknown mass of tissue.
It affects my value, leaves me at the mercy of those who are tightly knitted with their tongues and makes me feel false. How do I prove who I am if I don’t connect to the motherland?
Continually, I convince myself it is enough to acknowledge this flaw and improve in other ways, that one day someone will easily overlook this fault and know that I am just as aware of my past as they are. This tongue-tied mouth can overcome a simple knot but maybe such a constrictor knot is not easily bested.