The Vietnamese - American Poetic Spirit


by Thong Ba Le

On the seventh day of a lunar New Year,
I lost my father when a snowstorm was near.
That night the snowflakes were mixed with my tears,
I stood alone in the blizzard bareheaded without fear
of being frozen. My heart was colder right here.
I lost my mind in the dark, a sailor without gears.

I mourned his death over thirteen months and more
along with my Mom who stayed with him before.
I was forced to leave my beloved whom I adored
on the day I lost my country to the dictators.
The tragedy kept following me - in encore.
My Mom died in grief, I was suffering, my heart sore.

That was on a windy morning in April,
I was crying on my way to meet the devil,
I wanted to challenge him with my skill!!!

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