I’m from the lake and the canoes on the ripples
From the rolling hills that embrace the blazing sunset
I’m from the water lily meditating on its turquoise throne
From the osmanthus delivering redolence to numerous households
From the snowy orchid potted in the balcony of solitude

I’m from the quaint rosewood armchair from Grandma’s dowry
From the wreathing incense and murmuring prayer in the attic
I’m from the paper cut silhouette of goldfish swimming across the window pane
From the elaborate sketches and engineering reports piled up on dad’s desk
From mom’s classic porcelain-styled cheongsam hanging in the world of yesterday

I’m from the aroma of glutinous rice and roasted pork in homemade zongzi
From the overwhelming iridescence of fireworks every new year midnight
I’m from the weeping drizzle visiting Grandpa’s sepulture on Ching Ming Festival
From the framed family portrait grinning to guests in the parlor
From the fat hen stolen from the kitchen when I was a baby

I am from those moments
Tiny droplets that no one notices, but gather as a whole
And make up the graceful ripples on a sparkling lake