Given my thoughts
And given my time
I'd rather not waste my life
Giving it all to you

Last November, I remember
That nothing goes forever
For devils in angel's clothes
Undressing in stranger's rooms

Break down doors, lost in you
I can't find it
In my mind, there's a place
That you won't go
Where you won't fight

Future Days

There are long days

When my mind is gone

And a song comes on

That makes me think of you

I forget that I forgot

What I was thinking about

And I think about you

What it feels like

To be close to you

To have your lips close to mine

Tethered by an embrace

Of a leisure day's pace

Even if it only lasts for minutes

There's nothing much like it

To feel at home so far away

To bring my soul closer to future days

Storm

In the mirror I saw you
In your familiar pose
Never mine but never
Needed you to be
And yet, I can't shake it
Can't fake it anymore
Cause there's a storm coming
Looming outside my window

Right when you left
Quiet but I could tell
Lightning doesn't strike twice
So you never came back
You were a miracle
Never fully realized
That's what made it right

You belonged so much to the Earth
That I can still hear
The footsteps of your birth
Nothing would stop you
Like the storm torrents
You are relentless
As you march in my room
And out

Character Profile

I live in a small apartment in Rosemead, California with my two sons and my daughter. I had another daughter once – she would have been the oldest. But she died a few days after her birth. She wasn’t meant to be. I remember the night before she died - she had been very sick. I told her, “If you do not belong to me, please go. I will let you. In return, when I release you, please protect the rest of my children. Your future brothers and sisters. All my love goes to you, Hao. May you never forget, Girl Not of Earth.”

We are poor, my family. My husband works as a cloth maker in Hanoi, near one of the bridges bombed by the war long ago. We were young when that happened. Thankfully. My children and I live in a two-room apartment, unit 2B, on the 2^nd floor. My daughter sleeps in my bed with me and the boys share the other room. My daughter, Minh, is 14 and the oldest. Then there is Jat and Tim, who are 11 and six. Tim is the only one with an American name, thanks to the pleading of Minh. She hates her name. Jat loves his.

My husband sends money home every month. I work as a seamstress in an El Monte sewing factory. Every morning, a co-worker’s husband takes me to work. It’s tiring, repetitive work but it keeps my mind busy.

We have been here six years. Today, my husband will join us. He went to school at night, preparing to become a technician. Minh has a friend at school whose father is an engineering manager. He promised to sponsor my husband when he finished his training. I am excited to have my husband back in my life. But I’m also scared. Years have passed and the unfamiliarity of a stranger lurks and the feeling shoots up my spine when I don’t expect it.

I speak slowly and carefully, choosing words with caution and deliberation. My voice is light and airy, which belies the substantial weight I’ve put on since coming here. When I speak, I sometimes struggle with my words and I may now always choose the right ones. But people humor me and they usually understand what I’m trying to say.

From now on, our life will be better. My husband will have a new job and will provide for us better. He tells me I will no longer need to work. But I need to. Minh and the boys will go to school and I don’t want to be home alone. I know how it will be. My husband will sleep on the floor at first and Minh will stay on the bed with me. It will be a while before I grow comfortable again.

I am happy right now. What do I think about? Lately, I’ve been thinking about Hao. I see her. Baby in the Forest. Baby from the Forest. Baby of the Forest. And she grows before my eyes. Small and gentle. Light brown eyes. And I see that my eyes are no longer black. She can see through them. She smiles and floats, gliding above the forest ground.

I think about the first and last days of her life. I remembered the day she died. I was squatting outside, near our home. I was mashing medicinal home remedies in one boiling pot and cooking soup in the other. At the moment, I was dreaming. Of painting like I used to. Long ago. And I would paint her. Endlessly. Endlessly. Endlessly. But it was never enough.

I drift off and grab Minh’s arm in my stupor. She startles. I look at her. She is scared but smiles and falls back asleep.

My husband will come today. The future is the present. And my past has come back to envelop me.

Away Away

Lately, I've been a ghost

Gone when lights are on

Wish I could find a way

A place to stay

Away

Away

My empty room decays

A bulb flickers

And now I know

Why troubles grow

My room glows

A haze

A beat

Comes on and on and on

I wake from my dream

Ghosts don't do much else

Untitled for now

Went through the muck and mire
Of memories I thought perspired
But no matter where I go
Thoughts of you just flow
Round the river bend and back in again

I wander because I wonder
If you think of me too
They say it all gets better
But there are the letters
Love and Lust and "Forever" stamps
Neatly bundled by rubber bands
That tell different stories
Of a past I unearthed
An aborted future unbirthed

And I can't remember why
And I can't remember why

Dog Dreams

The other day, I dreamt I was my dog. My light, golden fur was shining brightly, reflecting off the sun. Indoors, my fur would be a bit darker - part of it is a duller gold and other parts are merely a light brown. A tennis ball rolled down the driveway, toward an old silver fence that remained closed by a string hooking the gate together. I ran down the driveway, in pursuit of the ball. Past the spot where the ex-family dog was accidentally killed by one of the family cars backing up. But of course, I didn’t know that. In fact, I don’t think I was born yet. It continued rolling like a skee ball, only it wasn’t going up a ramp – the driveway was fairly straight. Thank goodness for that.

The tennis ball’s momentum stopped when I found my mouth around it. That was it. Game, set, match. I’m a regular Roger Federer. As I turn my head around toward the house, curious as to who had rolled the ball, my eyes gazed downward before I knew what to make of it. Another tennis ball was coming my way.

What to do, what to do? I quickly analyze the situation in my head: once something is in motion, it stays in perpetual motion? Is that right? Whatever, I’m a dog. I’m getting that ball and if I play my cards right, I could have both of them. I drop whatever’s currently in my mouth and run for the moving object. Within a few seconds, it’s game, set, match all over again. I saunter over toward the shade where I had dropped the other ball near the end of the driveway.  As I prepare to enjoy my spoils, I stop. It’s not there. I look up.

My owner has it now. He seems a little disgusted at the saliva attached to it. I really don’t mind. What I do mind is the status quo. Is it true? Do you want something more when you can’t have it? What’s the point of having a billion dollars when everyone else does? This is too much for me. I just want that ball.