children of the sea

10· 03· 04




White grins split their darkened faces
as sea water beads from their foreheads
down to their lips,
salty treats that their tongues seek
with little flicks every now and then.
their eyes rapidly blinked against
the ocean sting, dispelling diamonds
perched on their lashes glinting
against the afternoon sun.

their shrieks of joy echoed through
the mountains, through the solitary hut
nestled under an awning of whispering
coconut trees dotting the sugared shores.
they became floating torsos heaving
with laughter; cut in the middle,
occasionally sputtering with water
tumbling after wave after wave
knocked them off balanced.

and as they brushed away ropes
of black hair dripping down
their backs, and as their shoulders
squared against the mighty waves,
they babbled about anything
and everything gibberish while immersed
half-torsoed in the blueness of forever.

they wondered out loud at the island
tucked away into that bluish hazy corner
and replied to their own little question:
that is our island.
those are our mountains,
our coconuts, our sky
and this is our sea.

and time was theirs, that afternoon
and the world was theirs, that moment,
and in the midst of laughter,
they cling to each other,
even when their dreams did not.

what else did they own that day?
and what else did they think about
as they floated on their backs
closing their eyes against the yellow sun?
when they are alone or half-awake
from a forgetful sleep, would a smile
cross their lips as they remember
that day on the beach?

today is yesterday as soon as the sun
sinks over the horizon
and with a blink of the eye
the children of the sea were gone.

au revoir, au revoir
may you remember the day
when the children of the sea
came out to play
before they rushed to shore
and grew up some more.




oct 21
© 2007 mei-xiu

· October 3, 2004 was the last day my cousins and I were all together. After that day on the beach, the following morning, two of my cousins left for Pensacola and the other one flew to Wellington. In the months to come, there will be more leaving and more goodbyes.

Fading Fast

I carried this for days
This moment I long feared
That when this truth assails
And I am over you
And nothing will alter
This will not be the way
For you and I to sever.

I wanted love to go
With a cry and a wail
Not like the silent snow
Nor like the dying flame
I want it announcing
Like loud peals of thunder
That two hearts are breaking.

But the trees still stand there
Waiting for earth to quake
And the sun stayed to glare
And I do not have the words
And I wanted to grasp
This silence and shake it
For we are fading fast.




april 22
© 2006 mei-xiu

Call Me The Sun

Call me the sun,
The world-weary,
Half-trodden, sinking
In the fringes of an
Outwear, the almost
Dying light on the gray
Pavement at day's
Closing; who thinks
A thought of you,
Begins to rise,
Bright orange,
Quickening,
Soaring high above
Blaring horns and
The sky-rise.
Call me the sun,
That the moon and
The pedestrian,
Upon seeing me,
Will think another
Day has begun.




april 24
© 2007 mei-xiu

To The Gardener

Gently now,
Or I shall curl inward
To wither against
Your touch. But if
You must; till the soil
Around me with
A loving spade;
And when you prune
My branches, do it
With such weeping
That I will forget my pain.
For I have grown frail
From all the seasons
In the past. And if
Then you require
That I bloom bravely
With your caress;
Let the water flow
Softly into my roots
And capture the meekest
Sun upon my petals
To rest.


april 2
© 2007 mei-xiu