2016 10 07
After rain washes away my old face
I climb tall mountain up toward empty sky
and stand alone among clouds, drenched in dew,
to gaze at lush valley of apple trees
where river of sorrow flows from my heart
though mist lingers among ten thousand peaks.
I see the old stone house my father built
nestled at foot of the steep narrow peak
where my mother plays flute on crystal stone
that calls flock of birds who swirl on red wings
around her hair that flows in gusting breeze
till she vanishes in whisper of love.
I kneel by crystal stone, that reflects rays
of sunlight to pierce my heart, and gaze long
at her skull that smiles when lightning strikes white
and remember when she taught me to sing
then twirled around, causing silk skirt to whip,
and threw me into sky with laughing hands.
Gooping muck from pond that gleams after rain,
I mold new face to cover my blank soul
with flowers and herbs sprouting from my cheeks,
then close my eyes till I find her lost voice
in whispering wind and sing words of her spells
till she vanishes in song of my love.