I miss her like she misses her motherland
Departed so long ago
With tears she said goodbye
To those who hold her dear
Taking flight she flew
To a land so far away
She yearns to come home
Just as I hope to see her again someday
For I remember her voice
As sweet as the sound of the đàn tranh
Her hair long and flowing
Reminiscent of the waters of Ha Long Bay
There was a liveliness to her
Uncomparable except to Saigon nights
She had a gleam in her eyes
Like the proud, bright yellow with red stripes
Though her life was turbulent
Plagued by periodic monsoons
Her love was endless
Forever providing like the green ricefields
I miss her like she missed her motherland
Departed so long ago
Taking flight I'll fly
Home to my mother's motherland
About the author
Kendra Nguyen is a Pomona '24 student.
Description
My poem is dedicated to my mother, who passed away from cancer in 2013. As a first-gen. Vietnamese-American, I do not know much about my culture. In Amy Tan's novels (and I'm sure other Asian-American works), mothers are the bridge that connects their Asian-American daughters to their cultural roots. Without my mom, I have struggled to understand my identity beyond the obvious fact that I am Vietnamese. The summer before she passed away, my mom and I went on a trip to Vietnam. I do not remember much except for how happy she was to be with friends, teachers, and family. Recently, such memories have driven me to learn more about my culture and identity- from trying new Vietnamese food, talking to my grandmother more, and engaging with VSA. I hope to visit Vietnam soon- a trip that was actually supposed to happen last summer. By learning about my identity, I also feel as though my mom is still with me- alive in her love for me and her love for her own motherland.
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