In the middle, green leaves and flowers
The world of smile illusion
Probably the most beautiful moment in life
The time we walked hand in hand on the hill!
[author title=”Tran Ngoc My” image=”https://sindhcourier.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/Poet-Tran-Ngoc-My-Vietnam.jpg”]Tran Ngoc My, a poet from Vietnam was born in 1985 in Hai Duong province. Now she is living in Haiphong. She is a member of Vietnam Writers’ Association and has published 7 books of prose and poetry.[/author]
Slow Motion
Trying with these photos
Let return slowly time
When did we start falling in love?
Where the sun rises
Thousands of sprouting lights
Two figures side by side
Leaning on each other and thinking about the brilliant road ahead
In the middle, green leaves and flowers
The world of smile illusion
Probably the most beautiful moment in life
The time we walked hand in hand on the hill
Quietly blowing wind
Light walks
Airy memories as clouds
Flying photos
Or am I delusional or infatuated?
Coaxing each old piece
***
*H’mong Child
My airy childhood
Flying with kites high in the cloud
Father’s arm as the cool sky
Mother’s heart as the filled singing sea
I was sitting here
Bewildering
Up and down day and night under the waterfall top
H’mong child piggybacking firewood in burns
Her skin smeared with its mountain soil
Busy feet with the journey to make a living
Calloused fingers by cobblestones
Untiring chirping voice
“Buy me, buy me, buy me…”
H’mong child running around
Replacing father to hunched over
Replacing mother to pat warm chest
Where hidden her childhood?
Sound of birds calling innocently on the grassy hill
Wild flowers drinking dew that red blooms
Fresh as angel’s smile
Wishing to put in her lips
I sit here looking at unfamiliar faces
Half way back to barefoot childhood
Only different my body begging alms under rain and the sun
Where for children play
H’mong child
H’mong child
Looks cut the parched heart.
***
Silence
Father walked through the sky of smoke and fire
Wound was not just bullets in body
Every night memories come back from a thousand distant stars
Firing field!
Ooh Ooh dream
Tearing explosions
Mournfully scary covering people’s feet
The rolling earth with blood everywhere
Illusion faces
Father’s voice scattered in the forest
Hand holding tightly a portrait
Just yesterday, teammate lay beside
Talking about that girl
War was painful and cruel
Love was broken before it yet begins
Not only the July sky with heavy rain
The heart aching against the painful stream
Many, many young people who gone far away
Many, many separations that have not been said goodbye for many years
No trace of bones
Where did father’s teammates go in a second?
Haven’t come back yet, daughter?
He asked many times, months, years…
Stars remained in painful silence.
_________________
*H’mong people are an important member in the community of ethnic minorities in Vietnam with about one million people, ranked 8th among 54 Vietnamese ethnics.
