Liú Yíxuán






















I.



By the pond, ancestors I've never met

A lone branch on the old tree
Smoke escapes

An escape, like a revolution, a subversion of home
They fled to distant lands

Ancestors watched them go, ancestors died, ancestors were seen off
They had children, ancestors became ancestors

What was never forgotten became a wisp of incense each spring, a fading shadow in dreams

We have never met

On the lost ground of history, on the school field, nothing grew for decades but beehives

"Keep away"
"Keep away" — words that catalyzed a group photograph, to be drowned in nostalgia. He is middle-aged now

As fates diverge, the ache of memory remains fresh

Old dreams, the yellow stains of dreams, new dreams, dreams carrying the death of loved ones

Heaven — a prettified word — still terrifying






II.




Brick and mortar, memory warnings in the mirror

Branches restlessly silent, faded wall paint drying up again

It‘s a way of making those far away look back, a worried act of retention






© 2026  刘怡璇 / Liu Yixuan. All rights reserved.