that tongued belonging

that tongued belongingCree survives in the words my niece offers her tearful daughter, "It's O.K., my girl.""my girl," that tender way of affirming kinship"my girl," that recotnition of being called intoand belonging to Creeall of this, in a few borrowed sounds of Englishthe nerve of Cree remainsin mouths that have tasted a foreign alphabet too longfrequently we sound too little of ourselves and regret that we were not calledto that sweet place of fitamong our relativesso that, now, when we're among Cree speakerswho ask if we speak our languageand we respond in the negative we are regarded as if we are illegitimate childrenin a single language hosteland all we needis to try hardersince we are a generation wherethese same soundsonce forbiddenare now pronounced and the echoes of a languagethat would have spared us grief(not to mention, alienation)had our parents communicated to uswill continue to growlike moss on our backsand no matter which waywe turn to the lightit will always existon our cold sideand achelike a phantom limb