by Jennifer Lee Tsai
Mother, let us enfold our griefs in lotus leaves,
cast them in the vagaries of the river,
let its alchemy bloom the most enchanting flower
in the murkiest of waters.
Let us admit how ghosts
can resurrect themselves,
become our holy guardians
who watch over us as we sleep.
Mother, let us remember how our women
were once warriors, unbeholden to any man,
how the world was not made by a god
but a goddess who created the earth from mud.
She held up the sky with the legs of a giant tortoise
allowing every star to shine its light,
the sun to burst forth, the lovely moon to come out at night.
Let us remember that grandmother’s name means spring beauty.
( CREDIT : Originally published in Kismet (ignitionpress, 2019) )