Wittier Word Weavers

Writers' Club of Whittier

You Will Know Me


You will know me by my victory
By my pages written and poetry read
By each word, precise like a knife, each incision made closer to the pain oozing pus of illness

You will know me by my laughter
Bursting out, an escape of happiness
Like a balloon filled with healthy breath of life
By my devotion and aspiration for the positiveness
The beautiful, soulful, light and airy as puffs of spring clouds

You will only know me by my best foot forward
My painted face for the stage, my line well rehearsed
The story belongs to somebody else, a protagonist
Her dramas, frictions, her mountains and valleys of inspirations gone wrong and love that was supposed to triumph but perish.

You will not know me by the ordinaries of everyday’s life
of rice cooked too wet or food spoiled uneaten
Sorrows seep out from my vein like water from a pinhole leak
Undetected under my foundation until the slab gives out or the telltale pooled visibly
My failed hope and abandoned efforts, multiple rejections, some told straight to my face, other by vague dismissals, and still others with vehement rebukes
Until I see no more hope, no more sun, no more dreams alive and no faith left in me.

You will not know me even then
Because like a ragged weed I cling on tediously on the side of a cracked sidewalk
Like a mole I dig deeper and tunnel my way upward and out
In maddened little hills that sadden a well-manicured yard, a sorry sight to the eyes of the untrained but what a survival,
What a resistance to the artist’ eyes who has learned to see the manifestations of love, of life
Like a worm, my hacked segments multiply and filled again with new blood and new determinations to fertilize
this earth
With each ingestion of rotten discards of decay of dead lives
I infuse
I refuse to depart unnoticed
to be denied of my right to be and blossom
of muted voice and ridiculed personality
I will not be fictitious, a character given a role to play
to build up someone else’s fiction
I am real
And you will know me
Even when it will be too late
for me
for you
It won’t be too late for the world to come
And you will know me
With my strength cut short and my pain alive
As much as when I am at my best
My achievements glorified and my lips full, well drawn, stretched into queenly smiles and my neck high.

Author: Hong-My Basrai

Memoirist and author of Behind the Red Curtain, blogger, engineer, manager, mother of three and wife of one, etc. I am a bit of everything.

2 thoughts on “You Will Know Me

  1. I wonder where you get all those incredible images. You are all that you say in this poem. Love, Kay

  2. At Kay. I’ve only just met this woman, but I’m sure you are correct.


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