Midweek Review
Mother Tongue Tangle
By Lynn Ockersz
There they sit in rows,
The North’s working people,
Their chores at a standstill,
Hope writ on their faces,
As the South’s coated gentry,
Open their mouths to speak,
From distant podiums,
May be, they would hear,
Of relief coming their way,
In their Mother Tongue Tamil….
May be, they could pick up,
A nugget of wisdom or two,
That could be treasured,
But Lo and Behold,
What they are treated to,
Is a tirade in the favoured,
Official Language of the Isle,
Bringing to naught,
All talk of Reconciliation.