SPARKS
When I was eight
I lit a coal stove every morning
staring at the sparks jump and
dance out of flames
as I fanned them with a palm leaf
Mother said they were fairies in exile
turned into diamonds
She knit a crown
to adorn my childhood
When I was eight
I went fishing in a flooded stream
I floated on water
pebbles were my pillows
I looked up at the milky clouds
spreading across the sky
Father said they were angels in exile
turned into waterfalls
He folded a boat
to bear away my childhood
> Wang Ping
1967 -
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