i was thinking about a house.
an old house in the hills
built with hope.
there is no design,
only the functional lines
laid out in solid walls and beams.
here the light shines brightly;
the sun pours in on the wide verandas,
on the old wood and
the wild tufts of grass.
it is a house where the obligations
of birth, marriage and death
are fully recognized and celebrated.

the sun rises every morning.
lives grow and change,
the wind surrounds the house
with envy and longing.
storms crash against it and
lightning flashes its sword.
yet in every generation
an old man and a woman
sit in their chairs
on the veranda
and talk long
into the night,
as if the house
and what it represents
will always find
rebirth and live forever.

-mamang dai in stupid cupid