My parents old and weak, half a world away,
Couldn't visit, no funds to sway.
Money sent home for father’s cancer plight,
Mom selling charcoal, to ease her mind.
In 1994, Dad grew frail,
"Son, come home before this body fails."
Money was tight, from hand to mouth,
Paycheck short, always heading out.
Each month's salary, to needs it went,
Food, utilities, mortgage, car payment sent.
Signed up for overtime work’s demand,
To help my parents, to lend a feeding hand.
Vietnam and the US, no ties in place,
Twenty years, no diplomatic grace.
Poor Vietnamese folks added corn to their rice,
While security police living rich and nice.
Short on cash, for a trip to go,
Could father hang on, time ran slow.
Lottery seemed like a hopeful bet,
If not played, no win to get.
One day, the house next door caught fire,
Thirteen members escaped, none in dire.
Fire trucks came just in time,
Neighbors whispered, asking why?
Our house lightly torched, but damage paid,
Silver lining in fire’s cascade.
Money came just in time,
House fire was a blessing in disguise.
Rushed home, fast as I could,
To see my father, understood.
Nineteen years, a long span,
To see him before life’s ban.
At the airport, landed quick,
Ready to grease security's trick.
A small “hello money” helped me pass quickly,
Avoiding thorough inspection, passed.
My appearance — not a typical overseas Vietnamese,
Backpack, small suitcase at ease.
Tennis shorts, sneakers, polo shirt,
Only one luggage, avoiding the hurt.
Guard motioned me to diplomat’s line,
He mistook me for someone who was not overseas Vietnamese.
Not saying a word, I got in line,
Showed my passport, stamped, and bye.
"Brother Five!" shouted from the crowd,
Forgotten faces, but voices loud.
Choked and sobbed like rain,
Tears gushed, flushing pain.
Seeing their state, heart did ache,
Dark skin, skinny, faces of fate.
Their sufferings were so obvious
A stark contradiction they claimed to liberate us.
Tears continued to cascade,
Cried for being the lucky ones to escape.
Or did I cry for missing my family?
For their sufferings, but not for me.
Even though my life seemed like a paradise,
But the squeaky old bed I'd miss it sometimes.
Though living in freedom for countless years
I could only use tears to pay for their sufferings and fears.
Longing for homeland’s embrace,
Tears to flush pain’s trace.
"Years living in free land,"
"Longing for a free Vietnam, Amen.