Hi readers (if you still happen to be out there.) It’s been a few years since I’ve posted anything. I’m taking a healing through writing class, taught by my dear friend Caits Meissner, called “Digging Deep, Facing Self.” Today’s challenge is to publicly post a piece of writing in order to practice vulnerability. I haven’t touched this blog for so long, I almost forgot it was here. Perfect opportunity to dive back into my poetry, which I also haven’t written in several years until I started this class…
My mom, and her siblings
never enough for seven mouths
the abundance of laughter
from cat and mouse games
Grandmother collected oil in a can
Come Chinese New Year, their decadent fried meal served
1986: Chinese New Year
my uncle threatening to pierce my ears with chopsticks,
me crying hysterically as
mom fed pungent vinegar down my throat to flush down the bone.
At three, I had a recurring dream that my parents and I were being pursued by men on horseback. They chased us through the mountains, inside of a temple in search for the magic peach in our possession.
Mother’s father: thousands of photographs burned in the name of revolution
pressed deep inside the earth with his bones and all of the faces from his village.
Father’s father: red army general, rotting from own tree branch marked “traitor”
Their wives broken.
Decades later, walking down hidden dirt streets
of what used to be known as the “hutongs”
in the middle of a new metropolis
built on top of
what is ashen and grey beneath the new paved concrete
Thousands of horses and solemn soldiers lining a path for the emperor
one of the oldest cities of human civilization
formerly named Chang An–Eternal Peace
That is what they named my father.