Coda: “Broken Words,” A Poem

Praise to the sweltering, yet comforting summers

in Taipei, where the unrelenting humidity clings to my skin.

Far into the night, my family and I walk through the brightly lit, crowded rows of the Night Market,

bustling with the shouts of street vendors, fragrant with stinky tofu and Taiwanese sausages.

The real city that never sleeps—you can get your hair done at midnight, grab food or drinks

from a “seven[1],” watch movies in the theater until 3am, or sing at karaoke bars.

My cousins send over a basket filled with lian wu[2] and bala.[3]

Behind the doors of our family home silence prevails,

where I stumble over my words in Mandarin, a language I barely speak,

where my grandfather had a stroke unexpectedly and passed.

In her humble apartment, my grandmother lives alone.

 

Praise to the drafts that blow and pierce in Orange County.

The sun never fails to rise every morning, letting warmth soothe the world.

On the beach, the mist from the waves hit my toes.

I can taste the salty air in every inhale.

The seagulls call out sounds that I cannot understand.

But when the world flings at me insults and racist slurs, I do understand.

As I walk on the sidewalk, the boys in the passing car shout,

“Chink, Chink, Chong!”

I close my ears, and I whisper a prayer.

 

Praise to my family and our beliefs.

My mother, the backbone of our family, says Jia-Yu,[4]

reminding me to do my best, settling the anxiety that flows through me.

My brother, the oldest, radiates humor with his stories, watches K-dramas,
and cooks his signature salmon dish for us.

My sister, the youngest, studies astrology, dances in pointe shoes,

and dreams of becoming a detective.

My father. A stubborn man. He preaches the Bible and holistic healing.

Nothing else.

Praise the Chinglish that effortlessly rolls off our tongues as do prayers.

When the church bells toll signaling the transformation of the Eucharist, the calm flows again,

the communion wafer melts on my tongue,

and I genuflect.

 

[1] “Seven” refers to the 7-Elevens in Taiwan. There are convenience stores that sell snacks, hot foods like yam and pork buns, juices, cosmetics, and stationery. The “Seven” differs drastically from the 7-Elevens here in the States.

[2] Wax apple. A sweet, rosy colored fruit.

[3] Guava.

[4] “Jia-Yu” literally translates to “add oil.” It is an expression meaning “doing everything with “oil” (energy and dedication).