Belonging to a place called “nowhere,” – Poem by Muneeb Tahir Saleemi

People call me accent

I am mocked

When I am mimicked

To look decent.

 

They were told to portray natural,

But they are annoying imitators.

When the hybridization of two tones is shown,

There, bilingual me says, “I am gone.”

 

Why is there a need to put undue stress on me?

To whom am I over and over misused to please?

Sounding like bending on another native’s knee,

Where the vocal tracks of your mother tongues flee.

 

I was used to nest Pidgin and Creole,

But when you stir your wine in my Desi drinks,

I am brutally trolled.

I’m telling a story untold,

Never have met gracefully the warm with cold.

You’ll never be forbidden,

Unless your third-class version gets scolded.

 

It’s never too late to accept who you are.

Who says, look cool playing a “foreigner card?”

From both of your pitches, you are discharged.

Lie in the darkness, Conrad’s broken heart.