Shadow
A tiny boy races through a village, with
fragile arms carrying books, papers,
maybe a pencil or two. He's hugging
the world with bright eyes, while
stumbling through the morning light,
traveling aimlessly in a field of
ash.
Never looking down at animals'
hopeless faces, flesh blown away
by the bombs of freedom, the
scorching heat smearing morality,
changing what should be,
what shouldn't be.
But here he is still, his shadow in the
haunts from forgotten tears
no older than I.
__________________
Author’s note--The
poem was inspired by my father, who lived in North Vietnam during the Vietnam
War when he was young. Oftentimes, he'd tell me about his childhood, about how
he kept walking through the village with a makeshift desk above his head to
avoid the bombs. He managed to avoid the war by going into the shipyard, but
there were other men who weren't so lucky. In the end, he made it out of
Vietnam and came to the US. Still, whenever he talks about when he was young,
he'd always refer to the bomb craters around his village.
__________________
Laurie Nguyen (Robin Goodfellow) is a student at the
University of North Texas. She first became interested in writing when she was
three, scribbling all over her parents' walls and imagining herself in old fairy tales while walking in her father's garden. Since then, she has published
poems in the online magazine, Nature
Writing, as well as the Haiku Journal
and the Healing Poetry.
Dear Laurie,
ReplyDeleteThank you for this wonderful piece depicting hope for a future in the midst of suffering. I like your positioning of key words, "ash", "what shouldn't be", "no older than I."
Michael
Laurie,
ReplyDeleteGreat poem. I, like Michael, like the positioning of you words. I am not sure if you are new or not, but just in case, a warm welcome from me.
Your new friend,
David Fox
Dead on Laurie, "Shadow" Covers the tiny boy well, ash of
ReplyDeleteWhat is, changing what should be into what shouldn't be.
I enjoyed reading this sad but courageous story and the
way it unfolds.
Yancy