His Tears

Thoughts on Willow Planting Day

My father does not easily shed tears.

Even when he, like a young sparrow
stretched its wings, plunked on the ground,
struggled to lurch his way to where the sun rises;

even when demoted and transported,
he, barefoot in the fields, befriended farmers
who welcomed him as soil does the rain.

But sometimes there are tears
like dewdrops trembling in his laughter.
Once he waved good-bye to his brother,

his head turned away, hand frozen in the air.
Now he leans back in his rattan chair,
rare moisture oozes from his eyes.

I reach, too far away, to catch.

(I reach, too far away, to catch the fall.)

~~

After plants are watered, fish fed

A man does not easily shed tears.

Even when he, like a young sparrow stretched
its wings to fly, but dropped heavy on the ground,
struggled to lurch his way to where the sun rises;

even when demoted and transported,
he, barefoot in the fields, befriended farmers
who welcomed him as soil does the rain.

But sometimes there are dewdrops
trembling in his hearty laughter. Last time
he waved good-bye to his brother,

his head turned away, hand frozen in the air.
Now he leans back in his rattan chair, time gnawed
rare moisture oozing from his eyes.

I reach, too far away, to touch.

Revised (with norm\'s suggestion)

My father is one who doesn\'t shed tears easily.

Even when he left home, young and alone,
struggled to juggle his day dream with night reality -
a stranger in a big, unfamiliar city;

even when demoted and transported,
he, barefooted in the cornfield, befriended farmers
who welcomed him as soil does the rain.

But sometimes there are dewdrops
trembling in his child-like laughter.
Last time he waved good-bye to his brother,

his head turned away, hand frozen in the air.
Now he leans back in his rattan chair. Time-gnawed,
rare substances ooze from his eyes.

I reach, too far away, to catch their fall.



(Revision. Two more stazas are added.)

My father is one who never sheds tears easily.

Even when young, he left home alone,
struggled to juggle his day dream, night reality -
a stranger in a big, unfamiliar city;

even when demoted and transported,
he, barefooted in the cornfield, friended local farmers
who welcomed him as soil does the rain.

But sometimes there are dewdrops
trembling in his child-like laughter.
Last time he waved good-bye to his brother,

his head turned away, hand frozen in the air.
Now he leans back in his rattan chair, time-gnawed,
still, only tears oozing from his eyes.

I reach, yet too far away, to wipe them off.


4/14/12 revision