Day 8: Horror of translation

i have know the game of being stripped to the core
how the naming of me by those who cannot decipher this tongue
will amputate every limb of my body
these are not moments i wish to pass on to my descendants
the accepting of violent translations
and a world thrust upon them in different dialect
how they will never be welcomed
in their entirety
someone will always demand that they be severed or made small to fit into the back of their throat
someone will always misunderstand their skin tone
someone will always violate them
with the scratch of repeating consonants

someday
i might find them
lighting their body
to be small
and will lose myself in their lessness
someday i might have to remember my own skin
shrinking around my bones
shattering the strongest part of me
until i was putty to be molded by their narration
someday
if i have children i might have to remember
the horror of translation