Wordcraft/Poetry

The Long and Winding Road

Sunlight
Corn stalks, withered, parched
Burnt coke, the smell of cackling firecrackers

The long and winding road
Cracks open corn patches
Grinds barren soil down
to chunks and crumbs of rock
Sucks up the dying, coughing trails
of the first fall of snow

Father of the loess.

Auburn temple
Abreast a signal tower
A dead bird swathed in dried bloodstains

The long and winding road
Draws me near
A walk of pilgrimage
against the winds, against my will
Skidding across history untold
of a nowhere village

"Your bloodline ties into me."

Fresh vermillion couplets
On aged brick-red walls
Hung at the very end of the Dragon's year

The long and winding road
Leads me here
The mighty Dragon King
crudely painted, sheltered in shadows
A lonely glass of rice wine
at his rusted feet

The water has run dry.

Long have I abandoned spirituality
But -- hark, the distant chant of a bell
the cadence of tramping hooves --

The long and winding road
Halts me as I turn to leave
Behold, a long dusty line of sheep
slowly, steadily shuffling forward
Dust rising like a stained veil
heat clinging to the dry air

Murmurous bleats of the highland.

Shepherd in carmine
At the flock's heels
A weary glimpse at my mouth agape

The long and winding road
Brings forth his sheepdog
Trailing behind, tail twitching
bell chinking-chiming on his collar
It leaves the troop without warning
to saunter up the steps into the temple

A prayer to the Dragon King.

Called and ushered back in line
The sheepdog whines
Pawprints overlapping hoofprints overlapping footprints

The long and winding road
Sees the horde off
Passing by the temple
a rippling, undulating, breathing wave
Nudging toward the village afar
and the billows of coal mine pipes

Two magpies flutter in the cerulean blue.

The barren land calling out
To his lost child, who has never felt
the soil of her father’s land beneath her feet

The long and winding road
Greets my solemn steps
Into the old temple
up the staircase, over the doorsill
Before the mighty Dragon King
I lit three crimson sticks of incense

And bowed thrice without God in mind.