SIENA HO SHUN YI
The fragrance stays
After Fragrant Harbour by Miho Nonaka
But there is no winter
in this southish eastern land. Plum blossoms
blossom anytime, waiting to be shot
on a non-summer morning and a
non-offensive bullet. One street away
and I would have seen,
and it would ring even louder; screaming colors
a symphony of lights: is this what he saw
when rubber pierced the eye. I go out
wearing black shirt, black shorts
to fit in like a sore thumb. The shore is dark
at night by cries unheard,
a new normal on our lips, faces shielded.
Keep your head low so you won’t meet the eyes
of those who hold you at gunpoint,
non-blank minds holding
blank paper crumple into oceans.
When home says leave
you drown even harder: hope that sun glitter returns
quicker than sleep. A nightmare is a nightmare
is a flood at worst; no flood
can take a harbor’s scent, 人情味
in a stranger’s strength.
There is blood in the water
and it glistens through newspapers,
my friend folds a thousand paper cranes
and seals them tight. What bounds
does the sea know? Warmed by summers
and crimson a place called mine. We are known
for our crowded trains and sandy beaches; walk
along the shore to brilliant skylines;
watch the silent bystander and his eyes will speak
to you, determined, This is my home.
The fragrance stays
But there is no winter
in this southish eastern land. Plum blossoms
blossom anytime, waiting to be shot
on a non-summer morning and a
non-offensive. bullet. One street away
and I would have seen,
and it would ring even louder; screaming colors
a symphony of lights: is this what he saw when
rubber pierced the eye. I go out
wearing black shirt, black shorts
to fit in like a sore thumb. The shore is dark
at night, by cries unheard
a new normal. on our lips, faces shielded. Keep
your head low so you won’t meet the eyes of
those who hold you at gunpoint.
Non-blank minds holding
blank paper crumple into oceans
When home says leave
you drown even harder: hope that sun glitter returns
quicker than sleep. A nightmare is a nightmare is a
flood at worst; no flood
can take a harbor’s scent, 人情味
in a stranger’s strength.
There is blood in the water.
and it glistens through newspapers,
my friend folds a thousand paper cranes
and seals them tight. What bounds
does the sea know? Warmed by summers and
crimson a place called mine. We are known
for our crowded trains and sandy beaches; walk
along the shore to brilliant skylines;
watch the silent bystander and his eyes. will speak
to you, determined, This is my home.
The fragrance stays
But there is no winter
in this southish eastern land. Plum blossoms
blossom anytime, waiting to be shot
on a non-summer morning and a
non-offensive bullet. One street away
and I would have seen,
and it would ring even louder; screaming colors
a symphony of lights: is this what he saw
when rubber pierced the eye. I go out
wearing black shirt, black shorts
to fit in like a sore thumb. The shore is dark
at night by cries unheard,
a new normal on our lips, faces shielded.
Keep your head low so you won’t meet the eyes
of those who hold you at gunpoint,
non-blank minds holding
blank paper crumple into oceans.
When home says leave
you drown even harder: hope that sun glitter returns
quicker than sleep. A nightmare is a nightmare
is a flood at worst; no flood
can take a harbor’s scent, 人情味
in a stranger’s strength.
There is blood in the water
and it glistens through newspapers,
my friend folds a thousand paper cranes
and seals them tight. What bounds
does the sea know? Warmed by summers
and crimson a place called mine. We are known
for our crowded trains and sandy beaches; walk
along the shore to brilliant skylines;
watch the silent bystander and his eyes will speak
to you, determined, This is my home.
Note: 人情味 – lit. smell/flavor of humanity
Siena Ho Shun Yi (she/her) is a writer from Hong Kong and Malaysia. Her favourite word is pretty and her favourite things are pretty things (words remain the prettiest). She is on Twitter @sienasyed.