April 16, 2019

• searching for words

  i wanted to write a poem, not only beautiful
  and familiar but also profound.
  but lately, all roads lead, not to home, but
  to chinatown.  since we last spoke
  to each other, the number of grey strands
  in my hair has grown--one for each day
  we've been apart.

  if you were here, we could toss three pennies
  to make a hexagram, find out if we were really
  meant for each other,  eat mooncakes, wear
  dragon bracelets,  slurp ginger soup...
  in chinatown, everything in life is guesswork
  there's no blueprint for love

  even as i sit on the balcony, overlooking
  water, dreaming of falling stars as
  time whispers ghost stories in my ears
  nights when stars light up the sadness in my eyes
  i am learning how to love as if i were
  stumbling with the poet Li Po
  on the willow path at West Lake

  reaching for remembrance, distant history,
  or the meaning of words in a language
  never completely acquired

  • 5:23 am
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