As I speak my mother tongue,
nothing holds me back home.
And like the awakening percussion
from the drums playing,
the pledge of the land’s diversity
makes me stand in surety.
And for all that I value, there is worship—
let me bend my gentle knees to the hidden earth.
Let me draw closer to the brew
and convince my womb to call
for the master brewer.
And let me soak up my innocence
and display the full dance of the calabash.
For all that I have is
a mother tongue of worship.
