poetry for April

SOUTH VIETNAM-UKRAINES: 48 YEARS

©Nguyen Thi SaiGon

April 2022,

World, you’re all joining hands crying for Ukraine

We too were forced to leave our home the same,

on flimsy boats and cargo planes

We, too, lost our land

Then why 48 years ago you didn’t cry for us

48 years ago we alone pulled our hearse

Unlike Ukraine, we were called The Defeated

but not The Invaded

April 2022,

World, you’re all carrying your torch for Ukraine,

but 48 years ago, no torch for us

‘cause our war was brotherhood at battle,

yet Soviet was involved,

to have Marx installed

And China too, after Nixon’s trip

Tell me, then, about the international chip

that turned off the world’s light, and turned on our fate

So let me reach out to that Ukrainian,

whose sickly grandmother may be dying after too much weep

while skeleton grandfather keeps on living

in hopes of a reunion

but death already signals,

in separation

You, my Ukrainian counterpart, can’t rush back to take them with you

Promises no longer hold true

April 2022,

48 years ago, I crossed the ocean

I, too, left behind a sick grandmother

and the feeble grandfather, trembling his skeleton self

***

So, my counterpart Ukrainian, in memory we meet

On the last plane out, I did not look back,

and pretended I had no more slack

Before the airport was rocketed,

I heard a soldier had shot himself, to avoid being executed,

as invaders rolled in, tanks and armies in uniform,

The world ahead of me said no,

no invasion

So, no,

no intervention

The winners declared

April their Liberation

I am grieving for you, that Ukrainian

The wrenching moment when you depart,

you, too, must have a grandmother, whose tears pierce her heart

and a feeble grandfather who lives on to starve

When they die, only their souls fly to your side

Like me, you will learn to live through the night

So let me sing to you, Ukraine

the song of my defunct home:

I am that collapsed South Vietnam whose grandparents have long been dead

In the gap of 48 years, my wound’s still fresh

oozing still, behind emotional bandaid

You, Ukraine and me,

the child of liberty,

our right to be free

© Nguyen Thi Saigon 4/12/2022