|
swchow
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Wun-lee
Country: United States
Birthday: 3/4/1982
Gender: Female
Interests: Love, Loving life, family & friends, dreaming, nature & wildlife, medicine, espanol & foreign culture, tennis, running & volleyball.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Medical
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/25/2004
|
|
| It's been four years / you'd think after four years / grief would be tired / yet my heart never tires / so protected I feel / me standing behind the guardrail / she lying in the bed between / guardrails useless as she is motionless / sleeping in her limp body / breathing by machine / does she suffer? / I watch stoically / I've seen this before I should be fine / I am strong enough to watch again / I've seen this before / four years have hardened me / I've seen this before. Her family streams in / silence settles in to steal words / all surround her and those guardrails / as if guardrails could protect her / save her / the machine ignores the change of mood / pretense of life lifts her chest / rise and fall like waves / their shoulders rise and fall like hills / I watch carefully now / suddenly awake / my attending enters the room to stand by the machine / and I remember / I've seen this before. And I walk out. | | |
| Anger is the Paralyzer,
the anaesthesia to the pain
the botox to the heaviness
the freedom from the loss.
I thought you'd only do this
when full houses fell like playing cards
morality shattered like greed-stained glass
love dishonored with lust.
Perhaps you looked around and saw
sure-footing replaced by weathered sand
species once endangered now extinct
the sun spent like an hourglass.
And, like the last warrior cornered
you flashed your spirit, raw frustration and pride
lashed out to secure the fraying rope
and side-swiped me (did you see not me, your friend?)
Oh, shall I hand you the looking glass
so that you can learn the lies your eyes
see of the greater picture (what happiness makes)
while tearing drops of humanity?
Don't talk to me of friendship
(if I'm only here to help you climb) for as I often said before
I'll help you brace the stress fractures
I'll lighten your load of fears
I'll fill your canteen with hydrating faith.
But i'm no rugged welcome mat
no season-calloused bidimensional plane
no silent thing with straw for brains
for you to stomp muddy shoes on.
| | |
| When I have a little girl I am going to teach her something about life.
She'll be beautiful, this little girl -- like her grandmother.
I'll teach her to skip stones across the water
flat, gliding missiles -- springing and soaring with uprooted surprise.
Fresh and wet fingers with the sun by our side
Light, dancing between the clouds
-- Hope that can fly.
(SS - continuation)
When we move into a bigger house I'll pave the sidewalk.
Her footprint-stepping stones mark time
Stonehenge, Rosetta, Ica, Sphinx
She'll learn history while we make chrysanthemum tea
Library books, Internet websites, while the television sings
Fast-paced technology of anthropology
-- Curiosity non-extinct.
In high school she'll learn about mathematics and the sciences
Calculus curves of climbing counts, critical concentration
Rollercoaster physics with empirical chemical euphoria
Gender-less brains engineering creativity
Questions fly like spraying sand from spinning tires
(Did you know that calculus means "stone?")
-- Nuclear imagination.
| | |
| dear Mom,
do you know what i found today?
cleaning out my room
sweeping through the memories
stirring up the gloom.
a box stuffed with red envelopes
gung hay faat choi, sun tai gin hong
lucky money for me
but it seems that i was wrong.
for how is it lucky, please explain to me
why, if i save and save and save
all this money, 23 years given me
in not luck but in tears i bathe?
where is the happiness in all this that has happened?
what is the wealth
if i cannot save luck to save you
how can luck save myself?
so do you know what i did today?
cleaning out my life
i cleaned out those red envelopes
i'll start over --
i'll start fresh --
no more luck
just You
and Me.
| | |
| 
My favorite cooked food :o)
(This is why my mom gave me the nickname "wonton" when I was little)
get it? .... Wun-lee.... Wun-ton...
| | |
|
