My Mom Has an Accent

My mom has an accent.

Every word she says

envelops you in a world

of rolling valleys and mountains,

and rows of flowers unfurled.

Her voice, carried by the wind,

follows the rhythm of the music

from her homeland.

Although her pauses leave gaps

in conversations of the promised land,

she dances and gestures

with every syllable.

Her English is coated in uncertainty

against a language unknown.

She will stop at nothing to ensure

that her voice never loses its quirk.

She stayed quiet for too long

only to be told that her voice

needed work. Her lips

may struggle with this language,

but my mom's accent tells

the story of her home,

a home laced with anguish and happiness,

a home where she used to roam.