Though I Walk through...
/Though I Walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death
A poem of a childhood and a life foredoomed.
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Into this world I, too, was born
touched—was born with the hand of God
upon my crown; a son of scorn
who fled to the rich land of Nod,
a land of hope and the sweet corn,
of much to curse and much to laud.
Through angels, I witnessed white lightning
fall from the sky—saw its true power
in my small toddler's hands tightening!
But hatred was an evil flower
that ruined life's tender, harsh brightening
of my childhood's most fertile hour.
Oh, but alas! Alas! Dare I
catch a full glimpse of the Grim Reaper,
the angel of death who stooped by;
and up at its black shroud peer deeper,
at its face just before I die
as a pale-green, frozen, dead sleeper!?
By Ngoc Nguyen
From: United States