Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | I have your word (24)


By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm


I have your word

I don’t know if it’s enough

But shovel it into a box you think, mould it into a convention?

In convention, we are cheats, the worst kind of liars

Be it, but I won’t.


You are free

but I will take your words as mine.


Mine alone, you know this.

You are free.


You are the eagle, the trees

they rhyme, do you see?

You are free.



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From the depths of defiance

Tea & Transparency

I could pour my heart out on this page,
or I could refrain.

I could speak truths out loud,
or I could make no sound.

I could cry, let it all out,
or I could purse my lips to kiss my inner self-doubt.

I could.

I should.

What good is there in pondering
on what-ifs and paths not taken?
When all is said and done it is
my own beliefs that have been shaken.

If in my grief I am unnerved
and in my mind I am disturbed,
what chance does hope hold
with this melancholic soul?

I confess and I digress.
This burning in my chest
is both a longing and an indifference
to capture and yet undo life’s magnificence.

What hands are these that lose their grasp?
What weight rests upon my dying craft?

I confess, I digress.
This burning in my chest
is the fire I thought…

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