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November 26th, 2020 Poems



There are many things 

We can be grateful about,

Even in this topsy, turvy year

Of the historical presidential election, 

Injustices of race and environment,

And pandemic.


Sometimes the river flows clearly

Or muddily depending on the weather.

And its history tells the times 

Of tumbles, cascades, bends

Depending on the geography.


The muddy river brings armful

Of sediments building a new delta

Down the road with its own view

While reshaping the landscape,


And the Thanks-giving and receiving day 

Comes, it’s not a matter of turning 

The page of calendar.  It has carved a niche 

On the historical river of the arrival 

Of new combers on strange shores

Creating the oppressors and oppressed.


The long river, sparkly or otherwise 

Skirts another day of thankfulness, waking 

Up sleep walkers from the ignorance

Of moving heritage.


The sleep walkers change their clothes

And join the new chorus hesitatingly,


But it’s only a beginning.  


Love stalks us every turn

Of the long river.  


Thanks from an immigrant.


Yenna Yi


All we have is what we can give


But I know I can give more

I can give the bows I’ve saved

The cake in the freezer

The man I married too young

The wake and the me sir

The diamonds I’ve earned

And given away the

Allemandes of life

The swing and the sway

The weather and weathered

The sun and the sea

The odd dreams I wake from

The sequences three

The nuts and the candies

I stored in a drawer

The backwards I’ve gone

And also the forward

The pencils I’ve broken

The nickels and dimes

The tryouts, the failures

Surprises like wine

I’d give every freckle, every flaw

Every pore, I’d give

And then give some more

I’d give up my doubts

And my pride and my youth

I’d wrap it all up and I’d

Tie it up quick so you can

Have journeys and not just a peek

And trials and woes

And here—here’s a comb

come back now find the part

To a place they call home

–C. D. Finley