how unlike Whoisyours, Quang Ngai?
i grazed daily in the rich, lush, green pastures
of His Psalms,
away from the poor,
dark shadows of your starving hopeless bellies.
Your yews, lambs and flocks
of little sheep
lay silently, unsleeping
in these merciless, unrelenting, rattan mats,
besides these ——still crying —waters,
wailing along with the red rice paddies
that mourns your pains and screams your anger,
beneath the scarlet, out-raged, blanket covers of your blood
—savagely slaughtered by US.
i shall not want
—whose pacification
made you lie down your betrayed souls
in these ditches of unrighteousness,
for His name’s sake.
For as i walk through Tu Cung’s jungles,
negotiating through its horrific crosses of death shadows
and evil bamboo stalks,
i fear most
US that comfort me, and
art with me for His name’s sake.
For He prepared a table before me
in your presence -- But
who are my enemies? He
anointed my head with oil,
but why?
Who failed to consecrate your village?
My cup overflowed
though you begged for food.
Your gaunt scared memories now
permanently chiseled on your expressions
in death and the strewn pieces of
who you were.
Surely His goodness and mercy shall
follow me
all the days of my life,
but where will you dwell?
Forever?
