I Miss

Standing on an arch bridge at night

Indistinct stones in violent haze, like snow

Staring at this tiny branch of Grant Canal

Floating in silence

Connecting dynasties

From Beijing to Qiantang

It runs across China

flows into Pacific Ocean

to where I am                    

to bring me back

Here I am

But I miss the marks of powder on it

Dark circles

tell happy laughter I’ve had

when dad taught me to play fireworks

with me standing far away full of fear

when I waited for the coming of new year

with mom complaining about cold blowing wind

with sky full of splendid fireworks

with thunderous explosions

and with my family

Here I am

But I miss the sound of cicadas along the river

They murmur,

telling dislikes

in every summer day

to scolding hot weather

to noisy cars rushing by

and to my ignorance of their singing

Here I am

But I miss the reflection in the river

of my room

Orange light

tells a story of me

Beneath it

there is me

who was eager to go to primary school

holding an amulet for good luck

there is me

who stayed up for homework

tried to keep your eyes open

and there is me who packed luggage to leave

luggage of clothes and memory

When I come back

I will stand on it

look into the furthest distance

but leave my hurt there.