by Jenny Morris | Apr 16, 2009 | Poetry
He understands nothing. Doesn’t know his big GI father, his Vietnamese mother who discards him. His is an unwelcome. Called Vu, he’s no-one’s son. The orphanage is dumb for this baby. He learns thirst, hunger, to be mute to feel tears scald his eyes fear to make his...
by Jenny Morris | Apr 15, 2009 | Poetry
The flagstones are worn where she paces alone in darkness, at daybreak, her heart held by frost. She faces the truth that her son won’t come home. He fought for his faith and his life, and he lost. ‘I’ll manage,’ she says as she walks up and down and rocks in her arms...
