It is hard to carry these vowels.
Lost in translation—or found.
My namesake, so greatly desired
men set fire to a thousand ships—
the light they must have given off,
each sail a blackened flame sooting
the sky. I prefer the rain, a cloud
cradling drops that fall at an angle
over a forest that waits to receive.
The trees in this forest were carved
into shell, hot-needled and split.
The cracks reveal the days to come.
This deluge: groundwater rises
and collapses the earth. Seeds
begin to sprout. The pull of the moon.
What is to give light must endure burning.
Viktor Frankl
Eileen Chong (born 1980) Singapore (lives in Australia)
Source: Eileen Chong website
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