Ode to an 80-year-old Chinese:
Climbing Sacramental Street

Paul Wong


The burden of time
Gets heavier
With each step

And higher still
Against the
Gravity of
Suffering and sorrow-
A thousand tales,
Like the ancient
Yangtze River
Flowing Eastward.

Where is my homeland?
Where is the laughter
Of Children
Flying kites
Into distant skies
Of enchanting lies?

Every cell of me
Cries desperately
For oxygen and
To give birth
To a new Nation.

Shall I lean on
My lonely cane
Or cast my fate
Into the wind?

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