It would be funny, even startlingly serendipitious, if it weren't happening in such sad circumstances.
In February 2007, I wrote a poem about coming home straight to a clan reunion during the Lunar New Year.
It was a very happy time of year for the clan.
Today, two years later, is the eve of another Lunar New Year.
I had to rush to my home city for another clan reunion.
This time, under more sober circumstances.
Another senior member of the clan died after a lingering illness.
She is a woman lawyer who achieved some degree of national prominence.
A big part of the clan is gathered at a memorial chapel this very moment, again to participate in the eternal dance of life and death.
We have arrived again from all over -- from different parts of Asia, from the Middle East, and from the U.S., to bid a loved one a final farewell.
Tomorrow morning we intern her urn of cremated remains in a nearby church columbarium.
Those who have followed my blog will recall this peculiar tradition followed by our clan:
That we refuse death to have any dominion over us.
Grief and sorrow don't deter us from enjoying the laughter, the surge of excitement,
the pride, the food and music, that always accompany our reunions.
I re-read the poem earlier today.
It continues to capture my feelings these days.
Like two years ago, I walked through the same forlorn park and across the same ancient bridge.
Like two years ago, I sat in front of the same antique piano to play again a familiar refrain.
But the matriarch (my mother, who died some months back) is no longer here.
The girls could not make it in time today, although I hope to see them soon.
There were some fireworks and street dances just now.
There will be more tomorrow, Lunar New Year proper.
I hope to visit Michaela at her new place (the reference to "an old friend's nook").
All in all, the poem I wrote two years ago is more relevant to me now than it ever was...
even with my changed circumstances.
I feel like I've come full circle since then.
I know I haven't posted a blog for almost three months now.
I hope I'm not simply going around in circles.
And I hope this one makes you, dear reader, self-reflect on what you were, how you felt, what were your dreams and schemes, two years ago.
How have you fared since then?
May the year of the ox bring you good health, happiness and prosperity.
As for me...
"My journey goes on, and it's okay."
snippets of a day in the life
(new year homeward)
today, i awoke in deepest night,
softly jolted by a soundless sight
from a nameless dream i can't recall.
a timid teardrop refused to fall
in joy or sadness, i wasn't sure.
the bus hummed homeward, so it's okay.
today, i walked through a park forlorn
as street lamps died at break of dawn.
an ancient bridge told sleepy creek
that through the years, all souls will seek
their twins across the skies and seas.
the bridge was silent as i walked on
to rocky paths, overgrown with thorns.
i trudged on foot, but it's okay.
today, i dusted off an antique piano
and played its keys in old refrain
for a sad sonata of summer love
that ran away with the autumn wind.
memories danced in tinkling notes,
but brittle sheets fell into disarray.
fondness blinked and loneliness winked
but i smiled back, and it's okay.
today, i visited an old friend's nook
where east hugged west and offered me
a lifetime of a thousand books
laced with moon cake and ginger tea.
now she and i, and i and she
smiled at secret loves and reveries
of bohemian days and menagerie,
replayed the tears we laughed away
in sweet farewells and camaraderie.
oh, we endure, and it's okay.
tonight, clan laughter fills the room
and twins embrace a beaming matriarch.
aunts and uncles share old tales,
sisters, brothers recall old patriarch.
guitars and violins race each other,
daughters play with carps in pond
while parents befriend each other anew.
empty cups overflow with wine
but fail to quench the thirst within.
let it all seep in. we look okay.
tonight, we watch the fireworks fly
and dragons dance on cobbled street,
while drums and gongs drive evil out
and tigers prance on human feet.
the lunar year rewrites itself in
four characters and dozen signs.
i ask her if we can go home--
in a voice serene, her eyes reply:
"is mine the same as yours?"
we are unsure, but feel okay.
tonight, i wake before the dawn,
softly jolted by sounds of home
from a nameless dream i can't recall
as tearful raindrops gently fall
with joy and sadness, i realize
the first train leaves, and it's okay.
my journey goes on, and it's okay.
february 20, 2007
