Colonial Mentality

Borrowed tongues and borrowed fading dreams, a landscape shaped by echoes, it seems. The mirror held reflects a foreign face, a longing etched for an adopted grace. The subtle shame in accents native born, a whispered wish for how the "others" scorn. The packaged goods with labels far away, a silent promise for a bright better day. The history books with heroes pale and cold, a narrative rewritten, stories yet untold. The yearning eyes that scan the distant shore, a constant seeking for what they had before. The subtle cringe at customs of their own, a silent plea to never stand alone. The constant measure against a distant norm, a self-erasing in a cultural storm. The hollow pride in fragments of the past, a stolen heritage that couldn't ever last. A tangled root that seeks a foreign ground, where native spirits are seldom ever found. A silent question hanging in the air, when will the borrowed finally disappear? When will the heart reclaim its rightful place, and find its beauty in its own embraced space? ©bfa032725