The Vietnamese - American Poetic Spirit


by Thong Ba Le

He was awakened in the silent night,
by the voice he heard somewhere from up high.
He opened the door to the patio deck
the moon was hanging in the western sky.

He pondered the words said in a deep voice,
sounding like a command, giving no choice;
a task, a mission, a crusade of some kind,
designated to him with the word "Ahoy".

He sat down on the cold patio chair
supported his head with both hands holding
his hair. He felt old for this kind of quest,
like the aged clown in the last country fair.

Nature surrounded him with a strange sound,
echoed by the insects winging around.
They uplifted his spirit, so he could
reach out to his star, once it had been found.

He vowed to fight, but this time in his life,
with a pen, never a shot being fired,
and tell the world what really had happened,
judgement day would come, quest of a knight.

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