Phonsavan Poem by Bryan Thao Worra

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.