A Report

A REPORT TO TXIVYAWG (Chiyou)

The Hmong kingdom

shimmers

like a phoenix

above

the Five Lakes.

I arrive on my cloud-and-wind steed

at the Hmong city

with nine towers

and nine gates,

each guarded

by nine sentries

in full battle armour

and horned helmets.

I am led to the great hall

where king Chiyou

sits on his golden throne.

With his long-horned helmet,

his towering height

his booming voice,

he is sometimes mistaken

for a Minotaur.

“Who are you,

Shaman Traveler?

How and where

have you come--

you with the familiar face

in foreign raiment?”

“Your Majesty, I and my eight spirit

guides were borne here

by a spirit wind

from beyond South of the Clouds,

beyond the unknown lands,

beyond the ocean of time.

We arrive through travails,

through trails of tears,

through trials of blood,

along tracks of armies,

along footprints of frightened refugees.

Crossing the Red River,

nine tigers rose out of the ashes

of bomb craters to confront us--

we slew them with our swords.

Crossing the Yellow River,

nine dragons rose from the dust

of a rusty battlefield to devour us--

we pierced them with our spears.

I arrive bearing news

of the Hmong:
You have prepared us well
for the thousand-year battle ahead--
we survive!

Though we were

stamped,

stomped,

smashed,

we didn't die;

we fought

and fled to regroup

to fight again.

We don’t die;

we transform

into spreading colors:

white black

red blue

stripe

We are spreading

onto forests of bamboo,

mountains of teaks,

plains of elephant grass;

And further,

across oceans

into lands of snowy mountains,

burning deserts,

fertile valley basins,

bountiful fruit farms,

giant cities with a thousand towers

reaching for the sky.

I report to Your Majesty that,

like dyes spreading

across raw cloth,

like ink touching water,

we are spreading

across contours

of new landscapes.

Our raiment have changed

colors to blend

into the different lands,

but we are still

your sons

and daughters."