Barefoot, I face south, Atlanta.
The cold, brash wind—a salted sting,
Where sand and stone meet restless seas.
The homebound ship glides into the harbor,
And I gaze to the towering lighthouse, two men high, steadfast.
The cold, brash wind—a salted sting,
Where sand and stone meet restless seas.
The homebound ship glides into the harbor,
And I gaze to the towering lighthouse, two men high, steadfast.
The sun and moon—unceasing flow,
A morning star lights where I go.
The waves bear witness, wide and free,
To all the tides that carried me.
To My New Land
–A visual, sound,d and poetry reading at Patchogue Lighthouse, 2023
A morning star lights where I go.
The waves bear witness, wide and free,
To all the tides that carried me.
To My New Land
–A visual, sound,d and poetry reading at Patchogue Lighthouse, 2023
——Han Qin