Strangers In The Village Poem by Wenjun Liu

Arms wrapped around myself
Bracing for whatever's coming
In the gloom of morning mist,
I saw them approaching.
Distant shadows at first, margins blurring.
They drew near at last, features focusing.
What was that raging inside
Tears to come
Or a cry of delight?
Then I saw their faces and all storms quieted.
Foreign they were, and queer upon the eye.
No one returned, with all hopes perished in sight.

A knight, a witch, and a boy.
foreigners they are to this place.
'Wake up, everyone, there are strangers in the village.'

Wheeling myself to meet the three.
In dismay, I asked all the same
'Have you seen my brother
A lad of twelve
With browny hair and obsidian eyes
A fierceness in him, ready to fight.'
'Nay, ' they answered
'And may god bless him.'

The priest came,
with interest he invited them inside.
'How old are you, boy? ' he asked the youngest.
shouldn't name came before the age?

'Nine years this winter.
And quite a man grown.'

'A boy is but a boy, though, ' I thought to myself,
'Till eighteen years should bypass and end the boyhood.'

But those words lit a fire in the priest eyes
which I recognized as predatory delight.
Was it right to feel relief?
Did I dare to hope?
It was with a heavier heart that the grass shed its daily dewdrop.

'Have you seen my brother
A lad of twelve
With browny hair and obsidian eyes
A fierceness in him. ready to fight.'