Voices in the Fray #worldrefugeeday

Different but not special
is how I would describe myself and
our lives after the Exodus.
As a child I thought: No one wants to hear this voice
telling sad stories that make them pity me
and guilt them into helping me.
It became a mantra:
don’t let them see, don’t let them see.
And so I hid,
swallowing words and trudging through,
imagining a past I only knew
from the very stories I refused to tell.

People without a Home only know one thing;
Those who are lost know it too:
It is better to claim and be claimed –
to have roots running deep and fingers that reach
to the corners of the Universe.

We have within us a voice that is not sad but proud,
poignant and strong;
we are the tongues of our parents and the hands
that will pull their narratives into the light.
We are the First and the Last,
Second Daughter and Eldest Son;
a bridge that became the backbone of our people
the minute we dared to dream.

All the love in me embraces the past and present.
In my heart, I see your faces
and marvel at your courage.
I see you.  I see you.
I hear your muted voices.

I will speak loudly for you,
as others have done for me.

Today we remember the struggle;
We are united in the fray.


Repost from original.

To beef or not to beef

There I was, staring at the bags of frozen pig and cow bones at the end of the freezer section in my local Viet store.  I picked up a bag – the one that seemed to have the fewest cuts – gauged the weight against other bags, and promptly put it back.  As if by compulsion, I repeated two more times, made a full circuit around the cramped store with my Barbie-sized cart, and walked past the freezer one last time before giving up.

I don’t know why I think I will change my mind.  Every time. Continue reading To beef or not to beef