I Beg the Buddha | Teen Ink

I Beg the Buddha

March 14, 2023
By fionas0925 GOLD, Maryland, Maryland
fionas0925 GOLD, Maryland, Maryland
12 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Yesterday I passed a neighborhood 

in which Mother ceases to nourish lives to thrive

And her bosom quits from feeding manhood, 

Where basic survival of lives is pulverized. 

 

Heat thrusts the ground into crevices:

Fleas hunting for corpses of rodents in rampage.

Streams of strong stink swarm from abyss;

Passersby dig out wrinkled masks— disgusted face.

 

Days go by while the light boards flick on and off

“Welcome to Chinatown” ridicules the endless trough  

When iron-fenced portiere of diner is lifted off,

a family of three kneeling down to the Buddha for help.

 

I beg the Buddha

To cleanse the dirty chaos from diseases

When evergreen washes off the creases

It seems like the world is in its glitches

We are omitted from the peace and

Render us appease.

I beg the Buddha, our only bond to oasis.

 

Few blocks away rests a factory

Fume from the funnel erupting volcanic waste.

Toxic heat makes red dragons to weep

Why should lives of virtuous vendors get debased

 

Today I pray I mourn and I fear

The tradition will dance away in elegance

As the district no longer prosper.

Cheap. Destructive. Inhabitable. True essence.

 

Few blocks away holds some garment shops

The air throttles millions asian breaths at ease

Unnamed chemical swirls with teardrops

Skins turn from yellow to cherry after some sneeze.

 

What could they do but follow the norm

Which fabrics from run-down sweatshop are the villains 

For byssinosis and firestorm,

When known dangers at work need to remain chasten.

 

Yesterday I passed a neighborhood

Some goldfinches warble a lament in struggle

“How shall one outlive through this falsehood

when fates are fainted and dreams are undreamed in null?”

 

The sobbing of men—

Of children of ants of epiphyllum

Of entangled sea turtles of long-lived frogs

Of beautiful sun of suave moon of beguiling earth

 

Of the most is Chinesemen:

Whose kindness are exploited by unkinds

Whose abodes are abided by contamination

Whose lives are unlived by legal administrations.

 

I beg the Buddha again this time,

to which I leave my real sorrow in the cloudless clime.


The author's comments:

Scrolling through my photo albums, memories from the past flickered across my mind. I remembered times visiting Chinatowns when I was little; the smell of pungent trash piles and dirty wastewater flew into my nostrils, making me disgusted, and what's more, uncomfortable. That was when I decided to picture these unpleasant scenes through my poem, thereby showing society that racial stereotypes are shaping a particular group of people in the US for more than a century.


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