The Crossing
Silently the group of refugees
breaks through the jungle free
Eyes and ears straining to the dark
shores of the Mekong, too tired to walk.
Babies crying, mothers’ desperate pleas
Soldiers breaking through the trees
Screaming, “Get on your knees”
Fathers, brothers, sisters begging,
“Please let us make it to the crossing.”
Gun shot ringing, rat-a-tat-tat
people dropping, crimson splat.
Just Another Day
Gun shot ringing,
radio on, grandma humming.
Soldiers advancing
creeping, running, sweating.
Villagers hiding
grandma still weaving.
Hands deftly swinging
silk threads intertwining.
Danger closely pressing
grandma never flinching.
