It’s All Your Fault Featured

by on Tuesday, 24 May 2016 Comments

It’s all your fault.

We returned to the café where

Armstrong still singing,

“What a wonderful world.”

The song sounded ironic, bitter than sweet,

When the promise turned sour

With a lovely child’s death,

So cruel, thrilling and bloody.

Why? What went wrong?

Wonder became terror, when people said:

“Surprise!” and then bombed a whole street

Into ashes.

Mind your own business.

The ancient Chinese said it more gracefully:

“Sweep away the snow before your own doorway, and

Never mind the frost on other people’s roofs.”

But now, the snow is so deep.

It blocks the entrance of every house, and the sounds of

Roofs crushed are heard everywhere.

Isn’t it all your fault?

“Don’t believe in strangers.”

That’s the start; and then

You don’t believe in anyone.

Don’t believe in God, either.

He is such a liar.

Just as I saw the eyes of a blind man opened,

Seeing light for the first time;

A born paralyzed man jumped up,

Taking his mattress with him, and walked away;

I thought, “Brave new world!”

All of a sudden, so dramatically,

The cross upon the hill cast a long deep shadow

Into my heart, made my nights endless torture.

Your voice was muffled, sunk beneath a sea

Of noisy crowd. They wanted your blood.

They wanted our blood. I hid myself,

Sealed all the windows, locked every door.

I lived in a big coffin, afraid of light, because

My eyes became used to darkness.

I dreamed of you, still, with blood

Running from the wounds. Terrible.

Shame, on you. How could you allow them to

Crush you like that?

How could you walk away, leaving us

Abandoned, living like rats?

So, don’t you fool me again.

“We see him! He is alive!”

Is that some joke? Come on,

Sell it to others. Not me.

I had enough. Don’t waste time on trying

To break my iron heart.

Iron and stone are better,

Safer. They are good for defense as well as

For attack. I’m no loser,

Nor victim or fool.

I don’t know why I still come here.

This house is full of mad men, who want to

Trick me into dreaming again.

Hum, I’m wide awake.

Awake until I see this strange,

Strange stranger. He looks a bit familiar

When he comes closer, but I can’t remember

Where I saw him.

The whole room quiets down.

It’s so silent.

He walks toward me, as I back into the corner,

My head feels dizzy.

He squats down, looking into my eyes.

“Come. Give me your hand.”

Almost unconsciously, I reach out an arm.

He takes my hand and leads it to

Touch his chest, where I feel a mark slightly rough,

Like a cocoon.

Something falls down along my cheeks.

It becomes day again, though the windows stay closed.

It’s you, Oh my God.

It’s all your fault. See,

You make me cry.

Illustration by Raining (陳雨君)Kew Garden, United Kingdom



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