Sparks

Poem 36 (Pandemic Day 44)

Sparks

When I was eight

I lit a coal stove every morning

staring at the sparks jump and 

dance out of flames

as I fanned them with a palm leaf

Mother said they were fairies in exile

turned into diamonds

She knit a crown

to adorn my childhood

When I was eight

I went fishing in a flooded stream

I floated on water

pebbles were my pillows

I looked up at the milky clouds

spreading across the sky

Father said they were angels in exile

turned into waterfalls

He folded a boat 

to bear away my childhood

Wang Ping, Of Flesh & Spirit,Coffee House Press, 1998.

Let's compare most people's experience of reading books of poetry with the experience of going into the water at the lake or the ocean.  I believe that would fall into the category of "dipping their toes in from the dock" or "wading in up to their ankles so they don't get their jeans wet" and not, "let's plunge right in and stay all day."  

Poetry expects a lot from its readers and reading a book of poetry from cover to cover in a single sitting is not our typical approach.  You might feel differently when you pick up Of Flesh & Spirit.   I tend to think of mysteries or thrillers as "intriguing" "compelling" "page-turners"  but I felt that about Wang Ping's poetry.  I couldn't just dip in and pick up a poem.  I needed to know the whole story she was telling of her amazing life told through both poems and anecdotal stories interspersed.  

Wang Ping was born in China in 1957,  just before Mao instituted the "Great Leap Forward" which brought on the deadliest famine in history.  She grew up on a small island in the East China Sea and largely self-taught,  went on to earn degrees including a Ph.D from NY University.  She wrote this book while teaching at Macalester College in St. Paul. Besides poetry, she has written novels and short stories, translates and is a photographer and performance artist.  Her latest book is My Name is Immigrant.