my people

my people
of the Mekong River Delta
I do not know you
but I know your granddaughter
born thousands of miles away
she sits next to me in class
She bears the weight of trauma’s silence
she balances bicultural identities and stumbles through Viet-lish and blank stares
She tries not to hate her parents’ broken English or her need for distance

my people

my people
of the streets
I do not know you
I do not know you as ‘hos and whores’
but people
people whose respect I hope to gain and people who protected me
when you showed me the who and how and where and when you ignored me so we couldn’t get too close

my people of the streets
I do not know you
I do not know
if I know your name
mine is not Julie
I do not know how to find you
I do not know if you are alive
I do not know
if I want to know

my people of the rivers
the land the homes the shops
the quarries the forests the cities
my people
in all places
I do not know you
but I know
of you

there are some who speak of you as destitute or destined
passive or perfect
there are some who speak of you
still
as if you are property
not people

my people
you are
my people
I am
your people

You may not hear me
You may not see me
But you will know me
when we meet

My people
I do not know you
but you are with me

minh dang
2018

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