Megan Lee shares a poem on the theme of archiving Hong Kong.
we can never quite grasp the moon
you are thumping on my door,
hands drawn out from the crevices of your mouth
to pull me out of an unformed cocoon.
i am told to learn to speak is to submit
so i lie as mere remnants of a child
whose voice echoes in noiselessness.
purpose and potential go hand in hand in haunting me
where i am worn down as half a daughter
half an apology to atone for never living up to your manifesto.
a bitter victory, laced with urgency and fear
as i gnaw on the impossibility of finding
a hidden wholeness behind my
in a black gown, i join the masses,
graduating as a pawn
to a board i never reach the end of
graduating as a widow
not a woman, to mourn for exorcised dreams.
there is no time for this death to fossilise
as we dance in a feast of self-pity,
tongues stuck out into empty space,
eroded with false hope,
i am fed with its sweet decay.
Megan Lee is a student from Hong Kong studying in the UK. She enjoys using poetry as a medium to explore experiences and different perspectives.
- Mon, 29 May 2023