Mother Tongue

A secretive being provides safety for the individual,
My cancers grow and multiply for every one acceptable.
Let hardness be attached to the so many words
In this high and mighty language, the one of hazards.
Must we seek caves and crevices for our illness
To disappear finally and successfully in stillness?
The being inside is like an island of woes,
I have hidden all these grand avocados.
Let secrets spoil the words so plentiful in this tongue,
The tongue is the mother tongue, and it is hung.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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