a teardrop
from the beloved
can carve
a scar,
etched forever.

Pause,
before you speak.
Think,
before you act.

• Initial: May 8, 2025

Holding expectations in a steady and mindful way,
Opens the strength to move and shape each day.
Placing oneself in a bright and hopeful state,
Even through trials, faith helps us navigate.

• Initial: April 12, 2025

Who knew
That a poem about an old man and his horse,
Written in May 2021,
Would open a door,
A door that led me here,
To this country, to this moment.

Then, four years later…

Who knew
That as the cycle turns again,
A new admin takes the reins,
And the world shifts so fast
Even the seasons forget their place,
Summer burns in winter’s wake,
And winter sometimes shivers under a sun too bold.

Who knew
That one day, I’d find myself
At a grocery store at 8:30 a.m.,
Chasing after eggs, chasing after time,
That one day, I’d stand at a crossroads,
Unsure where tomorrow will lead.

Then, another four years later…
Things will be different.
What will they be like?
Who knows, right?

• Initial: March 15, 2025

Let’s not talk about our love
As people always do,
Like roses forever red,
Like skies forever blue.

Let’s speak of our love
Like these two eyes, once shy
Now, burning with passion after stolen glances.
Like these two souls, once lost,
Now, trusting with just a blink,
after wandering through doubts,
through uncertainty, through “maybes.”

I wish that one day
We will talk about our love
Like fingers entwined,
No longer reaching through screens.
Like two shadows walking in one path,
After drifting apart for too long,
Because our suns rose at different times.

So, today, I will only speak of our love
In the past and the present
Because to predict is to chase the wind,
(Am I too superstitious?)
Because the future is the darling of change,
of paths yet unexplored.
I will not promise.
I wish.
My wish is unrevised.

• Initial: February 8, 2025

They creep, they hide,
Growing silently,
In both quantity and length,
Whispering secrets to the wind,
Revealing themselves when I run my fingers through my hair,
Or as I stand, brushing my teeth—
Still and quiet.

They carry the weight of aging,
Family burdens,
Societal pressures,
Emotional scars,
And hidden cracks called mental struggles.

Once, I tried to mask them—
Dyeing, highlighting,
Layer upon layer of disguise.
But it was only a veil,
A cover that could never change the truth:
That fact remains,
No matter how softened or adorned.

I am learning to face them.
To look at them,
Reckon with them,
Accept them,
Understand them,
Love them.

I am working on this, yet, I no longer need to dye them.
I am learning to run my hand over them, tenderly,
And let them be.

One day, they will fall.
I will tuck them away—
Memories stored in life’s weathered coffer.
And I will move forward,
With pride.

• Initial: January 4, 2025

In the golden field, lights play,
Whispering winds sweep the day away.
The stones of memory, steady and strong,
Hold the roots of sturdy trees where dreams belong.

In shades, pause like a quiet rest,
To gather strength, to heal, to nest.
Stillness speaks, horizons call,
Life renews beyond the frame on the wall.

From the break, accelerate fate,
Living anew, a future create.
With charming shadow and golden blaze,
There is a bright path put in place.

• Initial: November 29, 2024

Time reveals secrets, slowly, softly,
About my father

When I was young,
I believed:
Dad did not dislike any food
He ate whatever was left
Handled the scraps in the fridge without a word
Because my mother would not touch the skin or fat
Because I refused dry rice
Because my sister avoided green onions.

But as I grew older,
I realized:
Dad was eating leftovers
Setting aside his own tastes
So that his wife and children could savor the best
Years passed, and along with them,
High cholesterol, high blood pressure,
From the weight of all those small, unspoken sacrifices.

Only recently,
I discovered:
He does not like dishes seasoned with five-spice
That is all I knew.

Now,
I wonder:
How many more secrets lie
Hidden in the quiet corners of his life
That time has yet to reveal?

• Initial: October 19, 2024

In a small, shared apartment, two worlds collide
She is from Saigon, and he has Northeast pride
She brings her pho, with herbs and spice
He shares choco-cupcakes, frosted nice.

“Hi,” she says with an accent, face weary
“Morning,” he mumbles, hair bleary
She sips milk coffee; he takes a cold brew beans, both tasty
Morning rituals—clumsy.

She washes zip locks, saves plastic bags
He stacks up Amazon boxes, never one to brag
She teaches him the rice cooker’s way
He shows her the dishwasher’s play.

In that kitchen, magic grows
East meets West in flavors flew
A companionship blossoms around the dishes
Two cultures, one counter—shared appetites.

• Initial: August 30, 2024

a b c d e f g…

“Apple” was the first English word I learned.
Shout out to Mom for sending me,
To the language center, where my curiosity burned.
Receiving a wisely investment since five,
From there, a second language to embrace.
Vocabulary formation cut through confusion’s strife,
Root word rules suggest meanings fall into place.

Clumsily, I pieced words into sentences:
One, then two, then three.
Writing a lot was easy, with lengths immense,
But writing briefly was a challenge for me.
In business reports, straightforward is key,
Which cultivated my need to write with care.

And so, my first poem came to be,
Long and rambling, emotions laid bare.
The second poem was more concise,
But still finding its meaning true.
The third poem showed somewhat right,
Improvement seen in each line I drew.

Gradually, forty-five poems in six years,
Accompanied me through life’s ups and downs.
They record successes, incidents, happiness, and tears,
Witness to my changing frowns and crowns.
Through joy, sadness, and fear.

A B C D E F G…

• Initial: August 2, 2024