Monday, August 3, 2009

white rice made in china

i traveled long nights and old mornings, with the smell of saltwater tree's streaming in my nose. i moved closer to the brown dirt sailed with water and picked the rice leaves. i let streams of sweat come down my back and face, but smiled all the same.

someone turned to annouce our break time. a little boy fair skin matching that of the skies white clouds. held out their hand whispering to me give this letter to my mama and papa for im about to die. i turned to see if i knew his parents only to note he was gone, i held his letter close to my heart his words echoing still. the rice pack i held dropped from the strings. as rice was scattered among the grounds and the bushes.

the little pieces fell gently into the sky creating their formations like rice in the dry land's grass sky.....

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