You shout, your voice a tempest,
yelling, threatening, a storm
brewing over us.
Yet, we stand undaunted,
unbowed, unashamed,
our voices rising
in a chorus of defiance—
speaking, singing, cheering,
casting incantations
in the tongues of our mothers.
You wield your single language
like a weapon, believing
it makes you stronger,
superior, singular,
believing you can drown out
the symphony of our many.
Yet, we have mastered your words,
bent them to our will,
shaped her syllables,
perfected her tones,
tampered with her structure,
all while cradling our own
languages close to our hearts—
never forsaking them.
So let your cries echo in the void
When our words fill the air of restaurants,
Stores, and every public space.
Your language used as a weapon of hate,
Falls impotent against our resolve.
We refuse to switch, to fall quiet,
Our love will be declared in every language.
