Writings

Samples of Upcoming Works: The Brave Rooster

Chapter 1

“Er-er-Er-ERRRR! Er-er-Er-ERRRR! Er-er-Er-ERRRR!” The distinct crow of a powerful rooster breaks through the stillness in a village. A sliver of moon peeks through thin clouds above Lao Kai’s crown when he jumps awake from a sudden disturbance. The morning air is crisp, clean, and refreshing high in the mountains. His needle-sharp talons grasp firmly onto an old tree stump as the onset of morning approaches. Upon hearing Papa’s daily morning crows, Lao Kai feels a deep happiness and reassurance knowing the familiarity of life in his village. For a second, he sees himself like Papa as a Village Rooster, but the idea disappears quickly. It is too much of a responsibility for him to carry on his young shoulders. Feeling a bit chilled by his own thoughts, Lao Kai looks at the chicken house. He sees Papa standing proudly erect like a tree, holding his head high to give another waking call to villagers and Yer Shao’s creatures for a new day to begin.

Poetry

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Two Rivers

Mississippi, oh, Mississippi,
timeless beauty,
you have carried countless stories
without judgement.
Your serene wisdom
inspires curiosity in young and old.
Today,
I sit before you as he asks for my hand,
how can I not accept such a kind-hearted man to be mine?
When his West melts into my East,
we become stronger as one.
Mississippi, oh, Mississippi,
you have done it again,
witnessing a new history
with prudence.
Watching your heartbeat,
in front of
“A Simpler Time”
overlooking the Julia Belle Swain,
I think of Mother.
Back then,
she once sat before the Mekong,
10,000 miles away.
Death asking for her hand,
how can she accept to go at such a young age?
When escaping certain death becomes a second chance,
she grows stronger with others.
Mekong, oh, Mekong,
you have done it again,
witnessing a new history
with prudence.
Watching your heartbeat,
in front of
fear
overlooking “The Land of Smiles.”
She thinks of her future.

Two daughters
before
two rivers.
Each with hopes and dreams,
like the moon and the sun
intertwining as one.
Mekong, oh, Mekong.
Mississippi, oh, Mississippi.
Two daughters
standing before the shores of the past,
the crossroads of the present
by two rivers.

Copyright @ Mai Chao, 2/24/2017

Culture

Culture was once hazy like a darkening sky on the western front,
thin ominous clouds passing over. 
Now, 
I stand at an intersection 
of the past and the present, 
heart racing to find meaning, 
purpose, 
a place to belong. 
Bit by bit, 
I flourish, 
springing up from the hard-packed earth.
Sheltered life breaks free,
a quiet girl grows wings with hopes and dreams.
My mother tongue rusty with neglect.
Language 
speaks to the fibers bury generations deep within me.
I am meant
to make my world kinder,
to continue culture.
I build a home within myself,
not without loving hands, 
blood,
tears of those who came before. 
I remember comfort.
Mother’s sweet rice with green mustard,
Father’s fried fish and sticky rice,
the intoxication of delightful smells
 enveloping every wall with familiarity.
I see contentment in
wearing white pleated skirt, 
black velvet jacket, 
rooster crown hat,
French coins dancing blithely during
New Year celebrations.
Coming full circle
by having my children,
I acknowledge culture.
Being together without having to explain,
a silent gift for who we are as mortals.
Culture,
rich like words,
scrumptious like nourishment,
bold like garments,
withstanding the test of time.
Yet,
I had to learn to receive these 
lasting ancestral gifts.
Today,
culture
is no longer hazy,
but like sunshine blooming upon the eastern horizon.

Copyright @ Mai Chao, 2/24/2017