Snow, Sunlight, Trumpet by Yongbo Ma

Elina Volkova

Snow, Sunlight, Trumpet

Snow and sunlight both leave me weak,

these things that seem polar opposites

share the same essence deep inside,

both blind my eyes, leaving me unable to see.

To perish by ice, or to perish by fire—

an unanswered question,

yet little more than a sigh.

Like a French trumpet in the afternoon,

drifting over from another room,

its curved neck, like a young swan’s,

glimmers with the cold sheen of frozen oysters from the Alps.

So I tie a knot around its neck,

tuck it back into its hollow body,

then, with a flock of magpies sweeping over power lines,

I fly toward the empty monastery north of the Songhua River, and read aloud a poem against vulgar gluttony.

© Yongbo Ma

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Yongbo Ma

Yongbo Ma (Ma, Yongbo) is a Ph.D., representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He has published over 80 original works and translations since 1986, including 6 poetry collections. He focuses on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose, including the works of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Williams, and Ashbery. He recently published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which sold over half a million copies. He teaches at Nanjing University of Science and Technology.

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I Am Soaring by Lorraine Caputo

 

Obo Teng

I AM SOARING

 

On hawk wing, flying

higher, I stretch my

arms towards the sun

 

feeling its

warmth fill me,

 

soaring over a

lunaresque landscape,

my spirit searches

 

below – a 

movement in

 

the brush along a

rushing river – &

I am soaring … I

 

am diving … 

© Lorraine Caputo

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Lorraine Caputo

Poet-translator Lorraine Caputo’s works appear internationally in over 500 journals and 23 collections of poetry – including In the Jaguar Valley (Dancing Girl Press, 2023). She is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. She journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth.

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I am more than my trauma by Carol Anne Johnson

Andrea Piacquadio

I am more than my trauma

I am more than my trauma, a tale of strength to tell,  

Amidst the shadows that linger, I've learned to rise and fell.  

Each scar is a story, etched deep upon my skin,  

A map of the battles fought, a testament within.  

 

Once, I wore my sorrow like a cloak woven tight,  

But I shed those heavy layers and stepped into the light.  

With every tear that fell, a seed of hope took root,  

In the garden of my spirit, I nurtured love's pursuit.  

 

I am more than my trauma, a phoenix in the flame,  

Reborn from the ashes, I no longer feel shame.  

For every whispered "cannot," I echo back a "can,"  

With courage as my compass, I forget my own strong plan.  

 

The echoes of the past may try to haunt my days,  

But I choose to dance with joy in an unbroken blaze.  

I carry forth my strength, like sunbeams through the rain,  

A symphony of healing that resonates through pain.  

So let the world see clearly, my heart is fierce and true,  

In the tapestry of my being, resilience shines through.  

I am more than my trauma, a spirit wild and free,  

A story still unwritten, a vast, uncharted sea. 

© Carol Anne Johnson

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Carol Anne Johnson is in her mid-40s. She is blind and was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder and complex PTSD. She is also a survivor of child abuse. She enjoys writing poetry and reading, walking, and volunteering. You can follow her on her blog, http://therapybits.com/.

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