A mass of  tangled limbs we cling to each other. I  hold tight to baby sister as we toss about the dank floor of the vessel, its  boards pelted by  the spray of  high swells. Her   sweet  scent distinguishes  her  from the others, she has the smell of a blossoms freshly picked. .   Just yesterday we were  lingering along the dirt road that leads from the old school house to our   home of splintered walls and concrete floors ignoring by instinct the slant eyes of  men driving an old van closer and closer.  Our school books scattered on the path, muffled cries drowned under rumbling motors.   Miles from home we are fed La Rochas to  soothe us into sweet fevered dreams.   Waking  in a perfumed  world of pale pink sarongs and  silk fans.  The slits of a man’s eyes behind angry walls.

copyright H. Rene Hunter


54 thoughts on “Cherry Blossoms

  1. Powerful words, Holly! This piece is a love/hate for me, as it should be. 🖤🖤🖤
    Funny enough, I just signed an AVAAZ petition to retry a gang of men in Ireland so that their time would equal their crime.

    The Petition Begins:
    “A gang in Northern Ireland kidnapped, beat, raped and sold 20 year old Anna for sex THOUSANDS of times. And did the same thing to dozens of others. They were caught, and convicted, for the SECOND time for some of their crimes.

    But they just got 8 MONTHS prison time!”

    I SAY:

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow!! Such tragic and harsh imagery that are subjected to people, and the descriptive portrayal you put it just touches the heart and it sickens me that people are treated like that. Such heart put into this powerful post!

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are now closed.