Song of an Orphaned Soldier, Clearing Land Mines
When I saw my father walking
I thought he might look like a man
afraid to die. Ahead
I kicked the road,
land mines ready to burst at his feet,
convinced their metal brains
the humming they heard
was a knife cutting,
not a living man’s voice.
They believed me.
They had heard this song before.
Like snakes in grass,
they clicked their tongues.
The gods I met promised me
they could make a life happen
after what had happened
if I knew who my father was.
I clapped my hands to signal a stream
and my father followed my sound.
He drank and bathed
as I cleared the land mines,
and I hoped it was him. He slept
in the jungle, dreamed jaguars circling
though it was nothing but fire
burning. Close to the Bassac,
I climbed mango trees,
dropped down svay to feed him.
Along the way, I waved my arms no.
To himself my father said, Yes.
No, I did not bury the bodies
nobody had prayed for.
There are things in this world
we must make one another see.
My father took me gently,
each one of us
gently, he took us to the flames
humming my children,
my children. Three provinces,
I traveled with him like this
only to take him back to Prek Eng
where he found his sisters.
If my father were to tell this,
he would tell you he carried me
over his shoulders to a nearby village,
that no danger touched him
and that the gods were watching,
they wanted to see me live.
