Immigrant Body

 

Immigrant Body

Immigrant Body

In this immigrant body

I rest

treasuring what this city offers

verdant hills, crowded blocks,

and what it takes

every drop of my sweat 

every tick of my clock.

 

With this immigrant body 

I traipse

through the narrow lanes, the dai pai dongs 

like a migratory bird anxious to leave, return

sometimes flying off-course

a vagrant brought by the weather 

going astray, often lost.

 

With this immigrant body

I quest

shifting from my seat to yours

not claiming your meal, your home.

I am the soil, the seed

the solo traveller

whose story belongs to all.

 

For this immigrant body

I write

while dragged by the gales along the road

forgetting about myself

and all desires that drive this world.

I write and whirl—whirl, like a dervish,

as if this body were not mine 

were not immigrant anymore.