answers his own rhetorical questions.
New Water Lillies Bathe in Scented Breeze and Sun While Old Willows Silently Observe
The Chinese have been
at this awhile. They
have seen murders, experiments,
and plots. They have been betrayed--
betrayed by the sky, by history, by their
own tongues.
They are still here. Deep lines
linger--plowed by rains that
never came, or came too fast,
or came like blood.
And for their trouble they have
a Wall, and a Lake, and
a Language, and buried Cities
guarded by buried
soldiers, and an idea of
Time.
In some places their language
is sung, in others flung; still in
others it's hummed; and in
more it's whispered haltingly.
They are still here. Time
is an ancestor that died as
a child.
Time is quiet, silky
tears digging
holes in rock faces.
But they are still here, bent
over slightly, drinking tea
delicately, bouncing all
their possibilites
on their knees.
Bouncing their
rewards hopefully
to the hum of
an idea and
a memory that
stretches like
a Wall, and shimmers
like a Lake in
the spring under
willows and lillies.
JSD, West Lake, Spring 2004
posted by: jmedoom at August 12, 2005 10:50 |
link | comments (3) |
poetry, china, jamie doom
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