I. Ode to Mother(land)
Didn’t you once believe in art?
Didn’t you once have a beating heart?
when you told me the story of a poet
& her friends who went to see a king
but he wouldn’t let them in
except for her fine eyes
she told him of the troubles
throughout their country
she told him of her worries
for all their people
she told him this in rhyme
& in the rhythms of her song
she told him this in rhyme
& with the poetry of her tongue
& that’s when he began to see …
(( ))
Mother, you once watched a monk
light his robes on fire
in 1963 when you thought fire might
say more than a gun
or all the bombs over Viet Nam
but his ashes contradicted him
he was burning himself for peace
it was that kind of world
so you sent me away to an ivory tower
& in the hills where gold lay
I grew into a princess
I never learned to sing
in my rightful language
I only learned to choke
on all the beautiful English
that still burns my throat today …
(( ))
Didn’t you once believe in art?
didn’t you promise to fight with your words?
well fight with words we did
stumbling over our own tongues
Mother you were the child
that I failed to love
& I’m sorry if I did
for now you praise the warfare
& the flags of our follies
& I am just an innocent
who knows nothing of history
I only know the stories
about the old poets who once
you dreamed of following
bringing the world to reason
as I still dream today …
(( ))
II. The War After the War
a dialogue (in acappella) between generations
MOTHER:
You don’t know what it’s like
to live under a tyrannical regime
You come here
with your ideals
and you know nothing
of Reality
DAUGHTER:
But Mother what about compassion?
MOTHER:
Compassion is but a luxury
for those who have known
nothing
but Democracy
You know not
the chains round your legs
nor the absence of
your voice
DAUGHTER:
But Mother must our hate
last as long as the wars
you thought would never end?
MOTHER:
What they dared call Peace
brought not but death
What they dared call Liberation
brought not but death
so how can I forget?
how can I forgive?
