WAR Poem: Lotus Seeds, by Jiacheng Hu

I tiptoe,
gazing at the jars upon the table,
dull dried nuts, only the
lotus seeds, crawling with weevil bugs.

Grandma, in a distant room, her snores,
bypassing along her back.
I call for grandpa, and together we watch,
the hollow, writhing lotus seeds,
lifted in our hands,
in the midday sun.

They all lie down, in the winnow pan,
get weathered in the sun,
autumn-like, jolt at will.
Until we wake once more, step onto the balcony,
only to find the wind, having long swept them away,
leaving not even a lingering smell.

Clear lotus, their husks wailing with the fall leaves,
its bitterness drifted light in the air, once among trees,
crops, and lawns,
fluttering here and there,
and so silently sank to the ground.

Author: poetryfest

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