Mahjong
Updated: Mar 12
i remember
green-backed tiles
clacking onto our water-stained table
the feeling of
glossy plastic sliding under my fingers
yawns stifled
in the pursuit of victory
i remember
playing mahjong
‘til the birds stopped chirping
‘til my eyes fogged over
‘til my world become
our rickety table
the clatter of tiles
a game
of taking and giving
i never learned how to read the characters correctly
north, east, south, west
were unfamiliar to my weary eyes
my mouth stumbled
over unfamiliar sounds
as i called out my victories
in a language
that i had lost and found
forgot and remembered
blamed and forgiven
mahjong was home
that i know
was my path back to my heritage
was my airplane ticket
to a family i rarely saw
mahjong was a language
that could never be replaced