You found how to fill like gold to hold
together the cracks of my broken body,
an art form that requires destruction
of the formal self
followed by the acceptance of others
in order to create
Now in the land of
whites of their eyes
I hope I translate well.
For even though Asian pastures that
we’ve never touched
can pin us with exactness,
in farmhouse we have made our home,
and I have set my vase upon hope.