Category: Poetry

Trapped in a swamp,
stretched and struggling to pull out,
you drag through a sump,
facing the boundary by the deep-set tangles.

Your dream swallowed
by a hidden python, sinks into dark.
No echoes spread outwards,
as tongue numbs in a dead knot.

The legend of your ancestors
recedes behind thick fogs,
Winds howl like hollow souls,
summon your immediate surrender.

What else to behold?
The eagle’s eyes?
The pioneer’s burning torches?
Holding your head up,

You become a climber
wringing sweat and blood.
Through thorns and reeds,
you plow a new path.

(Poem from “Wings Toward Sunlight”)

 

There must be something
upon the hill.
When new moon whispers to shadows,
trees stretch each limb,
and owls halt.

There must be something
in the breeze.
When Misty May breathes fragrance,
windows half-open,
sunrays shed gold.

There must be something
on the beach.
When sunset dips down the skyline,
tide spreads white skirts,
sand embraces our footprints.

There must be something
beneath the snow.
When quiet dominates mountains,
squirrels clutch pinecones,
I watch you from a distance.

(from Wings Toward Sunlight, also appeared on Canadian Immigrant Magazine & ChinaDaily Newspaper)