A stretch and sprawl of plain and hill
Where stones survive the coldest clouds,
You‟re jars and trails and scars
Rebuilding your shattered face
One hammered bullet at a time.
The heart of Laos beats here,
Desperate as a bush-meat market
Of endangered beasts
Hungry for change,
Weaving adversity into opportunity.
You‟re a place where
The long-haired goddess of Hope
Is always itching to leave, but she‟s
A good daughter who always finds
One more chore she‟s needed for,
Who never quite makes it out the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem