the Thoughts of A Foreigner
America has been my mother country
Ever since my birth
My daddy was proud to be
A patriotic Southerner
His daddy was a sharecropper
And his momma was a petite Dutch
Who worked so hard all her life
My mama carries the blood
Of proud Cherokee and noble British
She taught me how to be a little lady
And say thank you, please and I love you
That is about all I can say very plainly
It took me four years
To learn English
For I never heard how it was spoken
For my ears have been cursed
To be void of sounds
Now everybody says
If you are in America
You have to speak English
How can I talk English
For I have never understood
How words are pronounced
Does it make me a foreigner?
Even though I was born in
The good old U. S. of A
And still call it my home
Sign language is my language
And I used to think of it as a taboo
I hid my hands not to say
A word in painting a picture
English was still a struggle
For me to understand
When to use a, an, and the
Now I am residing in England
As a wife to a British man
I can feel even more deeper
Of being a foreigner
For I don't know
British sign language
But this time I don't hide my hands
Out of shame or shyness
My husband proudly paints
The sky with his hands
And his eyes sparkle
When my hands dance too
But because we use hands
Does it make us foreigners
Even though we are living
In his native country?
For he uses American sign language
Now I have come to realize
That we are foreigners in this world
No matter where we live or stay
I believe that we are ambassadors
To whatever country we call our home
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