by the waters of the Pacific

by the waters of the Pacific

i sat down and wept
as i remembered the hundreds
of immigrants cheated
and let down by a culture of bigotry

on the weeping willows

i hung up my violin
and my cymbals refusing
to sing the songs of plenty and freedom

in valleys of the Rockies

and in spacious prairies my Caucasian
hosts wanted me to sing
some songs of joy

but, how shall i sing

the song of joy and freedom
in a land where the colour of your skin
matters the most

if i forget my rights let my right hand

wither and if i forget my honour
let my tongue cleave to the roof
of my mouth

if i do not remember your discrimination

or, if i do not set my rights above my joy
let me perish in this alien land

blessed is that one who takes up the cause

of colured immigrants and does not dash
their hope on the rock of prejudice

henry victor     27.05.2002

 

destiny

my journey is long and the destination

deludes my heart filled with overflowing
craving desires as my mind, consciously
consider, calculate the remaining energy

left within my soul, the engine

of my being, frequently, designing a devious
corridor to enter the destined destiny
to destruction, a creative construction

henry victor     06.06.2002

 

tasted life, or wasted

i waited for my ship’s sailing

that never left the harbor, and i wasted
my time watching noisy gulls flapping
and fretting and sliding and singing

and i returned home regretting

spending those hours not learning
the skill of pearl-fishing, or to practice
netting fish to fatten my wallet

when i return then to my beginning, my end

will i be considered as one wasted, or tasted
life, I know not, for going only with the music
of my sisters, fellow creatures, in my soul

henry victor    05.06.2002