HORIZON

Sun sets at river's end
Red blurs into darkness
I hurry into evening
No last look at motherland
"Mama!"
Dear word
For the rest of the days of my life
I will not call it out.

********
The boat
The river
Fireflies
Mosquitoes
Gather sicretly
To see me off
Tears of parting
Freshet
Flowing inside
My heart dancing to crazy music
Jumps from my bosom
Broken.
When the signal lights blink
The little boats assemble
At the appointed place
One by one
Murmuring
Leaping to the big boat
The dark's night net captures everyone.
Cramped legs can't move
Jammed tight
Packed like commodities
See no face
Know no name
Only hear the breathing
Of 75 lives
Looking for a land which will let them live.

*********

The wooden boat weighs anchor.
In their minds they see clearly
Hundreds of gunsights trained,
Waiting and watching
Hawkeyed
Intent on smashing hope.
Fearful prayers murmur and drone
Like the beat of the engine
Pushing the boat to the delta.

The navigotor's map. Where?
The compass. Where?
Icy deadhearted schemers
Like a mother discarding her children
At a crowded market.
75 lives face a choice
Continue the journey
Or go back
Where jail awaits
No need to ask.
The boat lists badly
In huge wind and waves
Clenches its teeth
Braves the cruel lashings.
The reluctant pilot
Mouth longing to swear
Instead whispers prayers.
For a long time God has been fading
Now he is here.
Night's black curtain and the universe
Fall across the deck.
The stink of vomit
Spreads quickly.
The sound of crying children
The sound of prayer
The sound of the engine
A symphony
Throughout the long nights
Without stop.
Dawn.
Curtain parts
The tragicomedy begins.
Sky and sea meet
People look at each other
Weary redfilmed eyes
Burnt lips
Ravenous stares
Suddently boats scrape
Wapons clang and clash
Foreign voices clatter
Pirates become beast.
A new tempest engulfs these people
Who carve freedom
No weapons in hand.
Screams explode across the sky
Shred purity
Blood falls in drops
Despised life
Despised satyrs.
*********
The boat resumes its journey
In tatters
A hearse
Creeping, counting every crest, every valley
A school of fish in its wake
Like mourners after the hearse
Just as sad.

On the horizon
A flyspeck becomes
A strip of land
Cheering
Erases weariness
Eyes know how to grin
Reflecting the soft red light
Where sky meets earth.

Cam-Binh La
one of the boat poeple