3 Generations 3 Poems

This is a poem written by my Mama, she was the first woman to go to college in her family. What a gift to know that my Mama (dad’s mom) was a poet, and my Popo (mom’s mom) was a restaurant owner. As a child, my dad would write poems with me, and till this day, when I’m lucky, I can get some lines out of him. (:

凌晨一別 ，

一則獨守家園，

 一為飄零之孤雁。 

想二者之思， 定不能相異也。

然已寒暑三更，卒 未得重逢，此情此景， 真有不可言喻之隱痛。

只望大勢早日太平，被能返回祖國， 共享天倫之樂也。

English Translation (there are a few!):

During early dawn,
I keep watch over our home and
recall the vagrant goose who left its flock.
These two thoughts are actually one and the same.
Even with the passing of summer into the depth of winter, we still cannot meet again.
In this time and this place, knowing this brings inexplicable anguish.
The only hope is for more peaceable times, a return to my homeland, and shared joy in family.

My dad’s response poem:

When your long, lonely journey reached its end,
My heart swelled up with joy; sadness withdrew.
Through rain and storms, you found your way back home.
Scarred and beaten down, you shone like the sun
And brought life once again to my anxious heart.
Must you depart tonight to lands afar,
To lands unknown, a thousand miles from home?
Why must a crane fly off to roam alone?
We are united now; our hearts are one.
Let’s brave the harsh winds side by side this time.
Pain, loss, cold, heat, whatever life may bring.
Let’s laugh at rain and mock the blazing sun.
Our home is each other, till our life ends.

My response poem:

Now many more changes of summer and winter have come

and the Indescribable pain you bore

birthed a generation that could rise with the Sun

and dream with the stars that our ancestors wished upon

to the lonely wandering crane

that longed to find a way

back home,

to the love you knew,

to the love you lost,

thank you.

I honor you for the price you paid

and the unforeseeable cost.

It is a privilege to be born of your flock

to have your poetry running through my veins

It is a river of Peace inside me

a piece no grief can claim

For, I too was once a lonely, Wandering crane.

But your resilience paved a way

For me to lift my eyes to the mountains

And when I’ve forgotten the feeling of home

I know that even in my wandering,

I am never alone 

Immigrants

These poems try to tell of an experience through two different perspectives. I have been blessed to work closely with my parents in this journey of Evermore. They have sacrificed much that will never be seen by others, so much of their time, tears, and love have been poured into the space. In the past, their generosity and self sacrifice have left me with feelings of immense guilt. Now, I am working towards shifting those feelings of guilt to feelings of gratitude. Thank you to my mommy and daddy for believing in the vision of Evermore and caring so much about the community to help me try and bring it to life. Thank you to my Popo and Gung Gung, my Mama and Yeh Yeh for all they gave so that others could have.

To be an Immigrant Parent

It Is carrying with you 

The sorrow of the goodbyes

You were forced to say.

Or perhaps the goodbyes

You never had a chance to say.

It is learning early on, 

That life doesn’t take into account

Whether you feel ready,

Or not. 

Ready to leave, 

Ready to grieve,

Ready to run. 

Ready or not, 

Here life comes. 

And yet, 

While the past buries itself inside you, 

The future tries to haunt you. 

Possibility comes tainted with negativity.

Your beloved children, 

What will they face?

You hope desperately

When life comes,

They will be more ready

Then you were. 

So you push them hard, 

And sometimes,

You push them away, 

Before life has a chance to, 

Because perhaps at least then, 

You prepared them. 

To be an Immigrant’s Child

What is the weight we carry?

The weight we carry

Is different.

It is its own heavy

Its own hard

Its own story. 

It is the story of our parents

And their parents’ past, present, 

And future hopes, 

All intertwining into 

Our now, and our later. 

It is everything they ever feared

And all they ever dreamed

Layered in between–

Our existence, 

Our own searching

Our own mistakes

Our own wonders

Of what life could be. 

It’s complicated, mysterious, and 

B e a u t i f u l. 

It is one of the greatest burdens we will carry, 

That is until, 

It becomes the greatest gift we redeem. 

A Paradox for Peace

This is a paradox for peace—

that in silence, lack of noise

it is there I find my truest voice.

Will I slow down long enough

to hear the voice within?

In order to know where I’m going

I need to accept where I’ve been.

Rest for the Weary

Even in my stillness,

I am restless,

I am restless until

I am stilled.

It is a peace outside of myself

that I must invite in.

I open my heart with hesitation,

half-afraid of what else might sneak in.

1…2…3…4

1…2…3…4

1…2…3…4

1…2…3…4

This feels unfamiliar

This feels nice

This feels like

R…E…S…T

A Mother’s Heart

This is my Po-Po. She immigrated to San Francisco as an adult, and owned a restaurant in Chinatown. I miss her, but I hold her in my heart and hope to honor her passion for food and human connection through Evermore. Love you, Po-po.

The heart of a mother is

full of fears,

full of worries,

full of self-criticism.

And yet, it is also

full of love,

full of hope,

full of passion,

to see the world around her

become a better place.

Not just for her child,

but for all of those

who were once a child.

She doesn’t see rich or poor,

lawful or unlawful,

she simply sees human—

Humans worthy of dignity and respect

Humans in need of love.

She makes it her ambition

to pour herself out,

to love the world into a better place ~~~

A River Runs

This is a poem for my mom. She is a river that runs, and she is the river that gave life to Evermore. The amount of love poured into it, countless hours and late nights spent designing the space, I won’t even know the extent because she’s too humble to say. I do know she gave her all because she believed in the vision of creating a space for the community to rest, connect, and feel at peace. I hope Evermore will be a place she can come to to rest for many years to come. Seriously, she worked so hard that I often feared she wouldn’t live to see the day our doors said “open.” Thank you mommy for believing in Evermore, and community. Thank you for letting us drink from your well of hard work and passion.

A turtle walks,

An elephant marches,

A river runs.

Her love is like a river,

that pours itself out,

freely giving,

always flowing,

trusting amidst the unknowing

of what awaited ahead.