The Willow of Richmond Street

In the spreading willow branches

I find myself swinging into the clouds,

Grabbing onto it’s long, tendrils and spiraling myself

                   Down,

                                                                    Down,

          Down,

                                         Down.

Leaving those budding branches of life

Reaching into open air and crashing onto the ground

Sending uprooted dirt into the air

Like a less flashy Fourth of July

Splintering, pushing and breaking all the objects

That came in between the reestablished relationship

That I and the earth had rekindled.

Such was the death of the 43 year old Willow tree

That my father planted upon attaining this house.

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Scene #2: Guangdong Province

I wonder what she felt

When she was dragged out

Of the family house

Into the dense jungle behind it

The aching, hot sun above her

 

I wonder if she heard

The rumors before the

Rovers came rolling into the village

 

The odd language

That the translator was using

 

I wonder if she could smell

The fear, confusion and hope

In the sweat rolling

Off her mother’s body

Mixing into the wet soil

 

I wonder if she could see

What happened next

Her neighbor stepping out

Into that hot midday sun

Into merciless gunfire

 

I wonder if she could taste

The screams of her village

The blood and flames in the air

As it was annihilated

And the others could only

Cower and pray in horror

To Buddha or Confucius

Hoping that that the jungle

Would provide itself a friend

From their invaders

 

I wonder what she understood

I wonder what it did to her

I wonder how it affected her

Afterall,

My PoPo was only 6 years old

Scene #1

“Is there anything else,” he said gruffly,

“Anything else that I should know?”

Looking deep into my eyes

Those green eyes I had loved

“Shawn and I,” tearfully I said

“I know,” he said and in that instant

I regretted that this curt, analytical,

Forceful man, was exactly

What I had asked for- what I wanted.

Eyes Like Heavy Rain

Feelin’ a little nostalgic

Feelin’ pretty crazed

Feelin’ a little lethargic

Feelin’ pretty dazed

Got me thinkin’ about eyes like John Wayne

While I’m starin’ with my sight glazed

Cause standin’ here in this November rain

Reminds me of what it was like with you babe

3.12.17

I think of you and the memories we’ve shared

But now you’re not here

And I can’t help but feel empty.

Sometimes when I think I’m over it

I suddenly think of you and you’re there

Again, tears spill down my face.

I know that this can’t summon you

That it’s pointless to cry for something

That in this life will never be able to share

A cuddle or a nuzzle of love again.

I just want you to know

If you’re somewhere out there

And maybe, if you’re able to hear me

That even after all this time

I still miss you and will always care.