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This is a poem of longing, and remembering. It was written during the qing ming period, when we visit the tombs and graves to clean them and to give offerings to those departed. It was published here before, but few eyeballs. So here it is again...

image by Habibistan at pixabay



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the war is over
a long time ago.
you fought bravely but still
the rampant cells won,
there's little i could do.

but every year i am here,
i wanted to hold your hands,
touch your cheeks,
to stem the tide of tears
down your face.

but this is just
a slab of cold marble,
with your name
and some dates which
i remember well.

you would have love
fresh flowers.
lilies,
peonies,
baby breath.

but i bring cloth
and plastic ones instead.
tacky, you would have said.
but they last longer
in this sun and rain.

and just like old times,
i light a cigarette,
sharing a smoke with you,
as a gentle wind blows
among rain-soaked trees...


05/04/2010
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qingming

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