A furtive smile binds my lips
as she waits with expectant eyesWatercolors of the painted flower
splashes of orange and earth green
coupled with the calligraphy
exalt her dulcet dream
for harmony and accord
and yet, spirit worker
I cannot help but wonder
whether the flower was painted with your tears
whether your blood is bound in this print
whether you live every day in duress
whether you find sustenance in life
whether you dream of Lingshan
whether you sleep hoping never to awake
whether you still believe the sky is blue
whether you feel the spirit of Tiananmen
In your country the blood of thousands
cleanses your quiet desolation
and gives way to my lasting hope
that you may know of peace
if not harmony or accord
May this silence commemorate you
if only for the moment before my reply.