Waiting for ’97 and Godot | Flying Ants Approaching Water

Waiting for ’97 and Godot

The torment

of a drop of water

falling into a lake

I know—

at times I am the drop of water

at times

I am the lake

The torment

of a drop of water

falling onto the parched earth

I also know

At times I am

the parched earth

At times

I am

that droplet

But what about the joy

of a drop of water

falling onto the parched earth?

What about the ecstasy

of a drop of water

falling into the lake?

Even though

at times I am the water

at times I am the earth

at times I am the rivers and lakes

at times ecstatic at times tormented at times joyful

at times

I persuade myself

that you

will arrive eventually

Flying Ants Approaching Water

Flying ants gathering

on the eve of a rainstorm—

my father would say,

Bring me a basin of water,

and shuffling his wooden clogs

my older brother would clomp into the kitchen…

We watched Father

climb onto a chair and table,

unhook the hanging wire

and lower a bulb

Then Mother

turned off

the remaining lights

and we gathered around

under the single bulb

Flying ants swirled in a frenzy

In the water’s ripples our family’s eyes

sparkled inexplicably

and laughed inexplicably

Many years have passed—

like a flying ant, my father

flew into another basin

and we left our old home

For a long time, we haven’t heard

the sound of clogs

My young daughter and son ask,

Was that Grandpa’s idea?

In my sorrow

I don’t know how to respond

So I tell them to bring me

a basin of water,

invite Grandma into the sitting room

and open all the windows

and turn off all the lights

It’s not the eve of a rainstorm

We won’t see flying ants swirl

but we’d still like

to light a lamp,

lean in toward the water

and listen to Grandma, waving her palm-leaf fan,

recounting scenes from childhood

The children’s eyes

are like our eyes from years ago—

sparkling miraculously

laughing miraculously

Is this a night from many years before?

Is this a basin from many years later?

We flew here like flying ants

and we’ll fly away like flying ants

under the light

above the light

in the ripples of water where we see

our own eyes

the joyful eyes of an entire family

and the once-undulating

eternally undulating

eyes of loved ones

“Waiting for ’97 and Godot” and “Flying Ants Approaching Water” are from Moving a Stone: Selected Poems of Yam Gong, forthcoming from Zephyr Press in spring 2022. Published here with permission from Zephyr Press.

Image by Thomas Colligan