Entry Four: The Blessing of Adventure

This post is late, as I was sick. I was sick, last week was hard. At any given moment here, I am dazzled by leaving everything I know and also cursing the craziness in me that caused me to leave everything I know. And so is the blessing of adventure.

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Moon, Ningbo, China

Inside Me

When I am far I seek 

What is always Familiar; the 

Wind brushing its bright hazel eyes open over my head

 Autumn’s whisper

I lose track, I swelter, I swell, I combust and at the end of it all: the signs I can’t read, the words I don’t know, the stars I can’t see – but the Moon, the Trees, the Water Sing because they have always been, always will be inside me and 

I have only to walk under the periwinkle sky and sip the gold from the setting sun I have only to

Smile to and to receive a smile from. 

My home is here inside me.

 

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Sunset, Moon Lake 

 

GreatGrandmotherWithTheBoundFeet

A lute out my window and 

A lute in the night, by the river 

I think of my Great Grandmother with the bound feet who 

Swayed while she walked who 

Died in childbirth who 

Supported her children with sewing when her husband snuck away with the opera singer 

My Great-Grandmother with the bound feet 

Who died in childbirth it was her 

(fourth) daughter born (alive) 

When a baby daughter was a sour disappointment because not Only will she cost you money Only to be married out but also because Here is another life that will have to suffer as you have suffered and you will have to break her feet & crush them in a million pieces when she is just old enough to start learning how to read she 

Won’t read 

Won’t read. I try and decipher collections of symbols I can’t sound out in my head I am 

Illiterate here (functionally) I can 

Sit in a bookstore to smell the pages but I cannot know what they say, or let them take me somewhere other than 

Here

The lake gasps wide and twinkling. Bamboo is 

Quiet under smog, My trachea is filled with 

Needles.

I love to buy fruit and cause joy in the fruit sellers’ faces

Fat rosy cheeks at my choppy Chinese I love the

Largeness of everything the

Real sugar in milk tea the

Fresh flatbreads baked on a wood barrel this is not my 

Great Grandmother’s China or my 

Grandmother’s China just as 

Going to college and not getting married was not my 

Great Grandmother’s America hers were 

Plains Grey 

Dust, not enough money to buy school

Books, not enough rubber for the

Waistbands on underpants. 

I think of my great grandmothers, I think what would they think of me now and

I know that she would Rejoice in my freedom and take Pride in my bravery. 

I know it because she presses a hand on my chest and she tells me;  

Adventure is Good and

She’s Jealous.

 

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They told me this tortoise was 1,000 years old

 

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