Father's Day - By Anna Keiko Xianglian

Anna Keiko

Father's Day
By Anna Keiko Xianglian

One day, you tore cloth strips to bind your hands

I leaned close—the cracks like newly tilled furrows

Bloodstains winding into canals

As a child, I could not yet voice my feelings

But inside, a storm lashed branches, a pain unspoken

You always left before dawn

Your hoe and sickle striking the earth’s dull thud

On the darkened road

Your shadow carried the stars, the moon, and our family’s bread

On New Year’s Eve, as dusk fell

I stood early at the roadside

Longing for your return from work

Only once did you spare me from waiting in the cold wind

But as you watched me devour my meal, your chopsticks stayed still

Mother placed a piece of chicken in your bowl

You waved it away, saying, “My stomach aches,” yet hid tenderness in your wrinkles

Those accumulated memories

Are mirrors reflecting the path I tread

I work silently, let the storm lash my skin

No matter the wounds I endure

I never halt

For I am your daughter

In my veins, your stubbornness is etched

June 15, 2025