Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Poetry 2020complete | Page 105

His factory was out of business, that it was
shut down by the government because the
waters of the Yangtze River no longer ran
clear, that the family didn’t have
long left
That he was sorry.
And so
Young and naïve, with a goal to achieve,
To the Pearl River; she had left to venture.
For four years, away she’s strayed
On this soil her foot has stayed
Yet she cannot call this place
Home.
iii. churning waters
They call this hua cheng. The loudspeaker
buzzes on, tells them in fifteen languages:
Guangzhou. The metropolis of
blossoms,
of life.
A stop on the way to farther lands,
Different it was from the home’s wetlands.
Gleaming towers climbing high into the
Heavens; stretching taller than even the smoke
chimney back home. Skies clear beautiful
crisp and
electric-blue.
And though he liked to think himself sixty
therefore dignified, he found his mouth, like
so many others:
Hanging open
Wide
Agape with wonder.
Intriguing, isn’t it? Being so different
yet all the same. All tributaries racing
alongside weathered cliff-faces towards
open sea; the sea of promise, of wealth
of glass-windowed towers, fruitful futures
opportunities success happiness
That one had peeling skin, calloused palms, where
his bulk hid his hollow cheekbones and thinned wrists.
Another one, a girl, hair jet-black, arms full
cradling two squealing, chubby children,
yet red tinted the bags under her own eyes.
And another one, wrinkles etched deep
telling her grandson of dreams of good fortune,
of purpose - the same vibrant dreams that thrive
in the minds of all those bound for the Land;