Kapokno leaves-a Kapok treeflowers
I am The WayI amendlessThe WayI amall thingson The Way
Rose GardenMy mothers mothers motherplanted in her gardenfilled with the finest rosesever seen, the most beautifulflowers on gods earth growingin the brownest of dirtAnd from this wealthy dirtshe raised like a mothera thing there growinga thing so beautifullike in no other gardenwere her beautiful rosesshe grew her rosesto feel as if from dirtto a person as beautifulas only a true motherin her children's gardenlike them she is growingso not alone in growingflourishing like rosesdreams in a garden,of sweat and dirt,of being a motherof the things beautifulas she beautifuland old was growingshe became her motheramongst all the rosesand she that was dirtbecame a gardenthey saw her gardenknew she was beautifuland both of the dirtand flowers here growingdreams between rosesmothers mothers mothera mother in her gardengrows roses so beautifulherself growing from dirt
LanternsLanternsI walk under the cold night sky. It is so adorned by lanterns that I don't need any help to find my way.Even the full moon seems faint compared to the light coming from the millions of khom fai filling the air. My own lantern is held, flaccid, close to my chest against the November air. I reach my destination, a bench, in the middle of this park. I hold out my lantern and light the candle that rests inside. And wait for the space around the candle to fill with hot air. As I do I look around me and see at least twenty other people launching khom fai of their own. I hope that this lantern will rid me of my troubles as the tradition holds. Finally my lantern is full and I let go. Let go and watch it float gently up to join a million other lights in the sky.