here are three poems composed at Angel Island.
Because my house had bare walls, I began
rushing all about.
The waves are happy, laughing "Ha-ha!"
When I arrived on Island, I heard I was
forbidden to land.
I could do nothing but frown and feel angry at heaven.
In the quiet of night, I heard, faintly, the whistling of wind.
The forms and shadows saddened me; upon
seeing the landscape, I composed a poem.
The floating clouds, the fog, darken the sky.
The moon shines faintly as the insects chirp.
Grief and bitterness entwined are heaven sent.
The sad person sits alone, leaning by a window.
America has power, but not justice.
In prison, we were victimized as if we were guilty.
Given no opportunity to explain, it was really brutal.
I bow my head in reflection but there is
nothing I can do.
brilliant! thanks!