Category: culture and tradition

Christina Li // FILIAL PIETY

I sit beside the naive woman too infatuated to see the storm beneath his eyes as
she pins me to

sweltering humidity
smoke-ridden skies
sleepy farmlands.

To disapproving tongues
and wandering eyes undressing my thick American thighs
without consent.

To aging book paged hands with grime caked beneath fingernails
pinching my cheeks
too hard.

To blood bound strangers that smile at me through rear view mirrors
speaking in distant native tongues

To borrowed tastes
burning the back of my throat on the way down
turning my skin feverish.

I sit beside the naive woman
on the plane back as
tears of grief and relief intermingle.

Jonathan H. // GUANGZHOU, THE CITY OF RAMS

The old town of Guangzhou
Falls
In stark contrast,
With its downtown.
The effect of the years
Clear to the eye
Like Son and Grandson

In the downtown,
There are
vibrant lights
From the skyline
That scatter
As it reflects off
Of the ripples
In the Pearl River But not the old town

You take the metro
And probe your way
Through
Like a mouse
In a maze
To reach
Your destination,
But not the old town.

There are
restaurants
situated on rooftops.
With chairs woven
Out of bamboo
Around wooden tables,
Lit by
Flickering candles, and
Fairy lights on drapes
That hang
From its canopy.
But not the old town.

In the old town,
There are old men
In white vests
Playing ​mahjong
Around raw stone tables.

There are
stores,
With white marble walls
And signs written
In ​uns​implified characters

Try, the spicy
ginger juice which
Crashes​ into
Creamy milk, this
Concoction
Leaves you
Craving
For more

There are
Tea houses
With hip-and-gable rooftops
That served people
From the last
Imperial dynasty.

Here, the sweet
And smooth
Keemun Black Tea
Leaves a malty aftertaste
And tells a tale
Of the city’s past

Do come to Guangzhou. It is a place,
That beckons
The whole world
To come over.

Audrey Eastridge // BIRCHROCK

I relax on the wooden dock fishing
with little Jasper, thinking
not about the four-hour drive
not how the school year is starting in a few weeks
or if I will be on dish duty after dinner.
Nothing is on my mind.

Simply the tender air of the sun
mixed with the calm breeze of the lake.
We race to the floating platform and plunge
into the open water holding on to the rush.
Others join us after hearing our cries of
glee and laughter.

We have been through so much together;
through death that came too soon, through many
days and nights in this old rickety house, through storms
that almost collapsed the trees around us.
Some of us have gone, but we have stayed strong
held each other’s hands through the worst of it
and remembered the best of it.

But today while those thoughts are in the back
of our heads, we sing and dance
to the music that we create with our hearts.
In life, there is little room to be hardened with sadness
or to be so enraged that one cannot speak.
So today we are grateful for the days to come
and the ones we will spend here in this blessed place.