- 2 Posts
Rising rapidly in power, population, and industry, China is, as we all have acknowledged, on the rise. With this poem I wish to recognize how China has grown from the fall of their dynasties (Qing) and the Opium Wars to the industrial giant of today. Hence, the poem's name to be 'Hou Qing' or 'After the Qing Dynasty'. Thus, all in all, this is in inspiration that all can grow from a fall, a collapse, disgrace.
And from that, all can rise to power.
I. Who are you mirror and why did you paint
someone’s weeping eyes and hollow cheeks when
clearly my face was gilded with carnival
pomp and flavor that yesterday lingered.
II. Today my hair is cropped thin in mourning as ash
trails rust-colored rivers down my face—
Hailed as majestic yesterday and stripped
by the multitude of scarlet flowers I then bled silver rain like
A fruit, richly swollen sweet and over taken by
flies with avaricious foreign hands trailing over me,
thieves and xīfāng conquers of virgin lands
only amounted to barbaric western glory
when heavy breath and labored fingers
carved my once upon a time in blood to brick ruin,
III. And is there even a remembrance from my gilded days
in yellow chrysanthemum maiden brocade
before they set the summer palace ablaze?
I found time’s speed of it all so strange
as I was both huángshàng and celestial mother
to so many, who now have left me broken—
no one wept for me the day all fell quiet,
with my new place, underfoot to be auctioned austere antique,
not lover, not slave, but the enemy’s possession.
IV. And now the grey world has
raped, pillaged, and seized my children because
it seems as if war baptized born man to beast,
their lusty hate paint nation heart
for smoke and iron that knows nothing
of twirling silk umbrellas and deep rich calligraphy strokes
gifting rice paper screen like ribbon dances remember
V. although these ribbons are no longer in flight
but entwined in mops and rags of the industrial cement floor.