Ampersand

i am too fond
of beginning with the word
‘and.’ there is something
enticing about starting
in the middle, about not beginning
with bone idle things, but continuing.
the beginning is
so far ahead of us i hardly know
where to start.

i’ve never thought
my words worth much, &
it always seemed wrong wasting
priceless time on penny-thoughts. no
one hears when i say
i’ve always liked midnight
rendezvous with everything I’m not
supposed to love.

forgive me my words,
so little - mute. i have
spent so long refusing
to speak. you know i’m no good
with hellos. you know
i’m no good with goodbyes.
but you have told me write,

though my words balter,
falter, are not beautiful,
nor complex. but i can, & i must,
so i do. & i must confess
i’ve been a magpie, stealing
from so many leaflets - these words
would not be here without you. so
many stories, only borrowed
for a brief spell, so many voices,
only heard for an eternity.

i’ve never known what poetry is & i don’t think
i’m one bit closer. i am not yet brave,
& it takes courage to be proud. but you
have opened doors for me, and i'm learning.
& the next time poetry stops by, i’ll say
huan ying guang ling

& “welcome” is too poor
of a word, penniless
in comparison. huan ying – you are
welcome here. guang ling – as light
enters. welcome home,
to this world of light, this world of mine.