I Remember Poem by Henry Tong

I remember
what's forgotten
what's been effaced
in a foreign lore.

The bolded letters
in black-white paper
are shredded to
a profane illusion.

The fragile vase
denied by gritty dust
is exposed to light
in a forlorn farm.

The last sturdy tree
erecting between bricks
of a collapsed wall
treaded by multitude.

The highest mount,
its apex blocked by
the heavy autumn mist,
is shrouded to shrink.

What's forgotten
stays intact in chaos
unperturbed by turbulence
waiting for an observer.

And I record
those left in oblivion
if my poems are
not soon forgotten.