i smooth river leads to quiet winter dust on my fingers frozen, with stars in water, lantern fish in the wind. I’ve longed for herons in my sleep, jade …
Category:
Poetry
We used to play ……..up the hill, bunkered under granite wings. I wander tall among ancestors now ……..footsteps buoyed on the breeze stone islets stay supine. ……..They beckon to me, …
Vivian Jung, a trailblazing educator, was born in Merritt, BC, in 1924. Breaking barriers, she became the first Chinese-Canadian teacher hired by the Vancouver School Board. However, her journey was …
Kigan-mon— a silent plea for harvest in Buddhist prayer beads your calloused fingers dig deep grooves into the rotting flesh of sugarcane— daughter of typhoons, you dipped your toes …
it only felt like yesterday when we were huddling under the citrus lights every shallow promise disappearing when the monsoon rain kissed our pale bodies you let me read …
Radicalization was sitting at the edge of a bathhouse, wading water just warm enough on the skin. With my elbows sprawled behind me, head tilted back, I soaked in the …
Her body is not her own. From her legs to her backbone, It is the property of another, Who forces her to be the other: The outsider, the perpetual …
it just took 4 of my 8-year-old steps to walk past it on the way to Chinese school every week the narrowest building almost an afterthought its deep green façade …
Reading Joy Kogawa’s poem on the Evacuation, I suddenly awaken to the fact that the people I knew who knew her are gone. Grown-ups who could tell me of her …
live in a city lucky for light eyed, light haired. fed instead on hospital hot lunch, newcomers stuffed in translation, apartment blocks, their children. every reserve disappears to return for …
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