For all our languages, we can’t communicate
For all our native tongues, we’re all natives here
Sons of their fathers dream the same dream
The sound of forbidden word become a scream
Voices in anger, victims of history
Plundered and set aside
Grown fat on swallowed pride
With promises of paradise through quotas at a price
Champions and the warriors are racists in disguise
Ministers and their mistresses, they make us wait
Inherit the earth, they scream the enticing bait
With the touch of a young child’s hand
Innocence turns to shame
The devil that dwelt within
It sleeps out in the rain
For all our languages, we can’t communicate
For all of our native tongues, we’re all natives here
The scars of the past are slow to disappear
The cries of the dead are always in our ears
Only the innocent can talk about wrong and right
Of those who forced to choose
Some will choose to fight
For all our languages, we can’t communicate…
(Adopted from ‘Natives’, Paul Doran) – sounds familiar? Many (if not all) born, grew up, harvested, bred, rooted, educated, employed, befriended, married, gave new generation and will die in this land of Malaysia, isn’t that a valid reason for all us to communicate in one? Let us strive to have a Malaysia for all Malaysians!
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