22 Gia Long Street

I’ve been trying to see color

where there is only monochrome.

I am weary by this photo.

But I have only it, for reconciliation

between my imagination and my history.

A panicked helicopter above

22 Gia Long Street,

and

an American trying to help.

But with just one arm extended

for a hundred desperate eyes,

I wonder what came next?

Time ages the generations.

Ours is kept at distance

from the story

of what happened.

Think of all that sorrow:

Our fathers’ and mothers’ words

still buried memories

waiting for their first breath.

Is that all that’s left?

I’m clutching for what to say,

if only I could ask:

Mom, Dad,

where were you that day?