Dear Lola

Photo by Wildan Zainul Faki from Pexels

When I asked Lola about her childhood
she smiled while reliving poverty.
War was quiet marches through the jungle forest,
what is identity when you are hungry?

Water was life, water was weapon
weaponized against her family, she says
as she sips tea.

They won, or we won for them,
or our colonizers defeated the other colonizers.
She made it here, somehow. Love or
grit, or sheer will — not by chance.

I drop off a 50lb bag of white jasmine rice to her porch
she shuffles to the glass door as I back away
Six feet.
I love you, take care, Ingat Po.

Come over and visit?
Her cheekbones as smooth as the day
war ended. This begins,
no jungle to hide in, just distance.