Journey

By Wit lee

Wit lee

Modern Adam

Busy for nothing, I’m lost

In soap bubbles?empty of empty
Vain of Vain

From whose mouth, a man could be
Puffed up?

A modern Adam is wandering
In people’s garden

II
Rain, Journey

A crystal hesitation
Quivered a second, before it
Crashed into flesh

What a dangerous journey!
The clouds are mournfully chanting:
Sooner or later, the earth will be drowned
Sooner or later, the earth will be evoked

We are also on our journey
Catching sight of those cars
—— black, gray, silver, yellow
Red and blue
Flowing threads that being lifted up to the sky
By winged roads, and be thrust down
And down to the traps of mortal life

What a long dangerous journey!
Those shadows deep in silence
Apparitions of faces elapse like train-running.

III
I have nothing

I have nothing
Except these two holes inserted into my body
(You mean eyes?)
A deserted battle field
Created by a melancholy head.
(So tears became deserters?)

I discern, as I stroll
The moonlight pierces into my soul
Like a woodpecker
She is a doctor, yet could not cure my mind.

Now, pick up your pens, she says,
To make a portrait, see how the shadow imitates your foot
And walks like a real man: If the day
Be fainted by the darkness?

Yes, it’s me who have stolen your face
And hide it in the shadow of the mundane world
Now, it’s time to recollect your image
Your face, your lip, your nose, and your voice

A new man must be recreated

IV
Another Name

There must be another name for me
Much like an injection of brave
Not by my parents?clans, or parties
Not aware of themselves, still less does the others
(Of course reluctantly to admit)

That name, not only belongs to one
Surely include emperors, soldiers, machine-gunners
Can you imagine the front-line area they have survived?
Or have they been de-weaponed?

Sacrifice is another thing
When you look around from the altar
Listen to every piece of
Cries, howls, and lamentations
Huge fluxes of refugees at heaven’s entrance

Prayer is not good, let alone repentant confessions
Here is the remote self salvage
Now and then you could see the nine-colored deer
When forest grows darker?but could not
Hear the echoes of the temple toll
Across the stream on afternoons

May human settle down in this name

V
On my way home

To the white city drives the car
Passing through a tunnel, like a silver fish
Being engulfed into a black hole.

Lights shut up, body becomes blind,
Thoughts are hanging under the clouds.

Now it’s time to take a leave
As trees are retreating,
With their shadow adds defense to the roads.

Then Dad said:“let’s move family graveyard unto the mountains?
They’ll take the land for building lot.”
Oh, mummy, we have no home
Except your little case.

Suddenly, a shower of green tide flushes into our eyes
And covers up our mouths.
Our sorrow encounters two trucks
One blue and one white

A heap of coal sleeps on truck’s stomach
They are silent, and ache for ignition under the sunlight
So black that burns my eyes.
Such pain that can’t breathe
Light shuts up, body becomes blind,
Thoughts are hanging under the clouds.

And they are getting close
Shape me, or kill me
Nothing new above the earth

Biography

Wit lee, whose Chinese name is Li Hui, and pen name is Muzihuixin. She is a female poet born in Jining ,Shandong province, and now lives at the foot of Mountain Taishan. She is an editor of Taishan University Journal, a member of Taian Writer’s Association and Taian Poets’ Association. She has published more than 40 poems and one poetry book: Beyond Time
TEL:15954762922
E-Mail: lihui-1024@163.com

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