The story of my people reads like a sad poem,
A spoken word piece,
Like a smile and broken Hmong words from a small neice,
Soulful or soul food like catfish wrapped in banana leaves,
Reconcile my future and rectify my past on my Jesus piece,
Love letters recorded on cassette tapes,
Rewind and record,
Grandma sang songs of freedom on hilltops,
My dad cried silent tears about rivers and flipflops,
Grandpa would mention things like Pathet Lao and slipknots,
I tell your story over a beat and call it hip hop,
Rewind the tape,
But the only thing I hear is a farewell message,
It must have been you in my dreams,
You were strong making pickled mustard greens,
Life is seasonal but your heart is evergreen,
Same team on the rebound but you made the best team,
Record over,
Here’s my love letter back,
In written form delivered on the same track,
By track I mean the same path over mountains and cloud packs,
Pass the villages where the banana trees are at,
Through the scars at the jars of tears where memories come flashing back,
Send to Grandma