Bruning Eden One Branch

Burning Eden One Branch At A Time My father, a skull before the wars were over, Never saw my mother's flight in terror As our humbled kingdom fell to flame and shell My mother was stripped to ink among the bureaucrats, A number for their raw statistics of jungle errors Collated into cold ledgers marked "Classified" My feet dangling in the Mississippi have forgotten What the mud in Vientiane feels like between your toes While my hands hold foreign leaves and I whisper "Maple" "Oak" "Weeping Willow" As if saying their names aloud will rebuild my home.

By: Bryan Thao Worra -submitted on 08/20/2005 ©2005. Bryan Thao Worra