Sonnet CCXXII

His name was Matt; I still remember that as clear as day.
He made my life so miserable, so long ago.
Back then, he called me names, but then, I didn’t know
what all those words had meant. He shouted every day,
“Hey China-Chink!” And snickers filled the bus in brays
and shame endowed me with its growing hood of woe.
He’s poke sadistic fun at Asians – loud and bold –
while friends of his would laugh and laugh each horrid day.

The sharpest sticks and twigs; the sharpest flint and stones -
could hurt me all they’d like and break my fragile bones.

But never could they hope to vie with words of ice,
more sharp than splinters, crueller than a sword of steel.
For bones can piece together; cuts can always heal –
but words shall always stay, embedded with their vice.

Sonnet CXXV

The moving pictures sometimes startle me,
their vividness is so believable.
The feelings felt so very vast and free,
the stories told so very palpable.

And yet the misinterpretations seen -
the segregation, so inevitable,
the liberty some take with history -
these things imprint themselves into our skulls.

And labelling becomes more prominent,
and scanty links with truth become less rare
and entertainment turns to ignorance.

Our joy should not be thought-imprisonment;
our movies shouldn’t bring those hopeless stares;
but wise enlightenment, not ignorance.

Sonnet XXXIV

I feel as if I’m wandering culturally,
Although my heritage is plain to see.
I cannot read the words that many read,
Specifically the one my parents do.

But born in Canada, and with other ties,
I’m bound to be more Anglicized.
However, I’m still judged as “white” by friends –
The Asian ones – who don’t know why I’m less.

But now, my culture’s come from many ways,
I guess it’s where I’m from and how I’m raised.
Appearances are deceptive though;
From Edmonton, but still, I look Chinese!

It’s hard to be a race, but raised elsewhere,
Stuck in both worlds - and all in both shall stare.