Me and Si-lan
We are two women
Standing side by side in a desolate field
Delicately swaying
As a stalk of wheat and a stalk of rye
At the whim and will of the restless wind
The Wind
Blowing us steadily in one direction
And then blustering
Abruptly changing course
Ripping loose our roots
Our stalks tremble
We are hushed and ragged
Yet, our seeds happily soar on the breeze
Never to be held in our arms again
Our aching roots
Crave the rain
We joyfully lift our faces
To the shuddering sun
Clinging onto the cool damp earth
We feel the rumble of the plow
Bowing our heads together in communion
With a sigh, we slowly turn
And finally release our clutch
On the muddy earth
It is not the end of summer
It is the winter of rebirth
And then there will be the spring again.