Sacred

by Yume Chung Martines
 
In the ashen stalls across from 
the bombed orphanage,
we are able to buy dim sum
for the native orchid children.

In the copper rays we walk,
our bean curd in damp paper,
the sunshine gutters trailing
streets of hostess houses.

The sea spring has melted
demons from the mountain
gates, village town, and the
Spirits walk in our hair.

We leave our steamed meat,
dumplings for their ancestors,
germinating pollinators for the
Mother of earthly ghosts.

© 2005 by Yume Chung Martines. All rights reserved.

Yume Chung Martines is a twenty-six-year-old FULL time mother of four children ranging in ages from 3-8, a part-time English major (what else?) at NHCC, part time coffee brewer/steamer/mixer/interpreter (though I survive on Tea) at Dunn Bros, first generation Amerasian daughter still trying to figure out what to figure about that, wife, gardener, poet, and after all the laundry is done, still sister to the stories that have trickled down her family's filtration system into her veins, into her dreams, into the stories that she wants to share with others.