This was another humdinger of a prompt. Write a poem about the future - how hard could that be? As it turns out, hard enough to consume the better part of several hours staring at a blank page, while researching and reading anything and everything in an attempt to find some inspiration. In the end, it was reading Kwoya Maples' interview and the excerpt from Mend that did it. Her thoughts about tracing heritage and stories set off a few brain-synapses about wanting to connect with my own immigrant roots as a Malaysian of Chinese ethnicity.
Even that didn't make the writing any easier, it was still more of hammer-and-anvil rather than smooth calligraphy-flow. I'm not even sure any of it works, especially the transition between ancestry and seeds/trees, but at least it's OUT. (Maybe this is karma for all the easier prompts up to this point!)
FAMILY TREE
I’m a union of immigrants, blood thinned by seawater, thickened by hope.
The New Land promised a future. My grandfather boarded the boat,
passage secured through a rickety fabrication of lies (his age) and truth (his intent),
turned his back on Guangzhou, and dreamed of a better life
his ties to China pulling, thinning with each mile towards Malaya
until they finally snapped irreparably.
The names of my great-grandparents are an undisclosed diary locked away
from prying eyes. My grandfather never spoke of them, even to his
children, preferring to bury his past in the hold of a dirty, crowded ship
bearing the dreams of a generation of Chinese immigrants in its sagging,
over-weighted hull.
over-weighted hull.
He taught himself to read and write, my father told us. I remember his writing:
strong, angular strokes marking out each ideogram, the same strength in
his angular body as he watched his printing business burn to the ground,
flames devouring the night, along with every scrap of his dreams.
flames devouring the night, along with every scrap of his dreams.
We’ll rebuild, he said.
He did.
I’m a union of warring states that might someday be at peace.
I’m a bloodline of violence, strands of music spiraling through my DNA.
My maternal grandfather killed a man to defend his family, fled China
and came to Malaya to build a life. His first wife, my grandmother, was an
artist. A musician. She died before I was born, but something of song and
beauty filtered into her children’s blood, and so into mine.
I am a tree, I am a family of trees, I am a forest.
My hands are speckled with seeds, remnants from each union, past and present:
A word, a breath, a cry, a song, dropping from my mouth into my palm
falling through my fingers onto the soil of my days.
I plant trees. Trees, strong and angular, standing tall like my grandfather,
his roots sinking deep into the earth of his chosen home
the sap of his dreams and hopes running up, up, up
until it seeps into my leaf-veins, filters into my blood.
Blood and sap. Thick. Inseparable.
In the future there are trees.
There will always be trees.
12 comments:
Somebody wrote a poem full of seeds yesterday. There is lovely imagery in this. I can see the hold of that ship, your grandfather's angular strokes of the pen, building a new past and future, the trees. Good, strong writing.
It must be a seedy sort of day! (Bad brain, bad pun, no biscuit.) Thank you so much. This was a worse struggle than yesterday; I'm so glad the imagery came through.
All right brain, when will you let me write that poem about Shifting Truths and Feelings?
You are a genius! Struggle struggle. Yes, it's worth it!!
Maria, thank you so much! I don't know about genius though...but oh lord, struggle struggle is right. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
the first line is especially poignant and forte ~
Oh, this is the best bit, I think:
"I am a tree, I am a family of trees, I am a forest."
There's a lot of strength in this.
I agree with all the beautiful things the others have said. Your hard work certainly paid off! I've linked to this poem in my post today, and mentioned a few others that I instantly loved as well: https://unassortedstories.wordpress.com/2018/04/12/utrecht-copy-paste-insert-your-own/
I hope it brings you some new readers, your poetry certainly deserves it.
Oh my goodness! Thank you SO much! I am glad you enjoyed reading the poems - I really love yours too, they always make me think, in good ways!
Ken, Shannon and Grapeling, thank you so much! Strength and trees and journeys - kept sitting in my brain til I had to link them soooomehow. I'm glad it worked!
This is a beautiful summary of the strands that create and bind us. And we are constantly adding our own threads.
Thank you so much Kerfe! Yes, we do add our own threads to the things that create and bind us, even if we don't think about it. This prompt, as difficult as it was, got me thinking about it and exploring what identity is and how heritage shapes us. It's something I do want to explore more, in future.
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