I'll never forget the day he died.

I've pulled and pulled

at the chiseling chains of my betraying brain

I was a thief trying to break into my own mind.

It just won't let me forget the day

wont let me eradicate it

The key in the lock is a Chinese letter to an English student .

My grandfather was my nursery log.

I began as moss growing on him

Soft, small, uninspiring

Yet, he enrooted his energy into making me become the tallest tree

His words of enchantment

his wisdom

grew stems on my branches

rose me to the tallest canopies

And as I sit by his home in the bouquet of poppies

I tell myself the following,

“forgetting is the excuse used to escape

your greatest sorrows, its an insulting remark.”

So I stop pulling at the chain,

gnawing at the metal.

Instead, I decide to carry his legacy on.