My dear Vietnam,
when I left you I could not speak
for I would have sung you my farewells
as that ship fled your burning shores.
You do not know my face

for there are many smiles who shimmer
in your sea. But on that day in that hut
you gladly soaked my mother’s blood
and in your palms I met this world.
Certainly you can’t forget.

If my tears could wash
the blood within your roots
then I would weep each night
as I curl into these sheets
and forget.

Vietnam, I did not want to tell you
but my heart spills at the throat.
I now write from a nation
that scarred your back and poisoned
your fruit with Orange.

I did not think of you, not even once
as I sucked at lollipops and licked
at Happy meals. But did you know
Vietnam, that I once prayed
for rounder eyes and lighter skin?

Forgive me Vietnam, for I did not know
the men who wallowed in your mud
to search for rats to feed the children
whose smiles bless your streets,
only to be snatched by distant men.

Since I am a fruit that does not shed its seed,
when I must perish from this earth
I shall ask the wind to carry me
over to your mountains where I can rain
upon your fields, soak into your leaves
and dance within your heart.

Sincerely yours,

a lost friend.