Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Poetry 2017 | Page 163

New Tales of The Old Shanghai
Island School, Ishizuka, Eito - 14
The alley, as quiet as an abandoned park
The sky is dark, trapped in an atmosphere of gloom.
The dusty remains of homes, littered on the ground
Leaving not even the slightest hope to be found.
Footsteps break the silence, slow and steady.
What he will see next, will make his heart heavy.
The sound of the rolling wood wheels,
Mimic the way babies squeal
For their mother or father.
His grey hair swings side to side,
Left to right, with every stride.
He sullenly looks at the fallen buildings.
Did it have to resort in killing?
The rising sun on the flag,
Shines bright red
For each and everyone of us dead.
He avoids looking at the bodies, as still as boulders,
They lay on the floor, like a bunch of toy soldiers.
He looks straight ahead, and sees her.
The old man drops his rickshaw.
He stops, and stares for a while.
He falls on his knees, next to his wife.
He wonders to himself.
Where is peace?
Where is grace?
As the tears from his eyes dampens his face.