NEIGHBOURHOOD STAR
Each Christmas, the house
on the hill lights up a star
erected years ago, high
above the slanting roof.
Two interlaced triangles of gold
encircled by two red halos
join other lights streaming down
to the neighbourhood below.
Gold, red, green and blue
flare out like the mantle
of some descending Madonna
blessing our unseen lives.
We who walk the night
pass homes that release light
and shelter trouble.
We stop by the lot where
a house stood Christmas Eve
but not Christmas day.
It burned down in the night,
while the man upstairs
swore at his predicament –
neighbours heard him –
every entrance stacked
with boxes and furniture
windows boarded up
smoke accumulating.
When the firemen came
they couldn’t get in.
Now there’s just rubble
and the smell of a burned life.
Rumours of a drug business.
We nod a prayer for the soul
on its journey and leave
the ashes of its earthly life.
Even when we can’t see it
we feel comforted
by the neighbourhood star.
We know if we continue
our walk, it will meet us.
We pass by other houses
garlanded with lights,
their windows, path leading
to the front door signaling
“Welcome!”
It seems to us who like
to walk away our troubles
that the stars and the moon
have come down from behind
the clouds shrouding the sky
to mingle with us in the winter
EIGHT
On the last day of Chinese New Year
eight women met for dinner
in an out-of-the-way Chinese restaurant
next door to a Walk-In-Clinic
but we were not worried –
our organizer had done her research –
the best Szechuan food was awaiting us.
None of us eight was Chinese
each wore something red or gold
all past the age of lying
everyone armed with humour –
we were a lucky number.
Two rules: No politics and no
woeful listing of aches and pains –
the woeful listing was the difficult one
some theatrical demonstrations occurred
then we ordered wine.
The lively blond with the blue eyes
insisted, ‘No wine for me!’
but as we raised our glasses, a look
of deprivation spread across her face.
‘I want what she’s having,’ she cried
pointing to the one with the widest smile
and a raised glass of red, red wine.
We drank a toast to friendship
and the New Year. The Rooster
was promising – whatever it was
we had no idea but knew
it would require bravery.
Multiple dishes rotated;
spring rolls, spicy Szechuan green beans
lemon chicken and hot pork
sautéed scallops, prawns and squid
Singapore-style vermicelli
shrimp fried rice –
chili peppers burned out old tastes.
‘Ahh… everything exquisitively done!’
said the one who eats out frequently.
‘Top reviews for these dishes,’ said
the retired teacher, our researcher –
her family used to own a restaurant.
‘No MSG,’ she assured us.
We passed around stories
and heart-shaped chocolates
wrapped in red, two each.
Finally, the organizer handed out
eight single freesias in pale gold.
Love and good wishes circulated
with easy laughter – our annoying
habits stayed out of sight.
Everything worked out mysteriously.
We hugged at parting
like old friends, promising
to meet again next year
but on the first, not the last
day of Chinese New Year.
Yes, we welcomed the Year
of the Rooster with a circle
of 8 – it was going to be
a Lucky Year, no matter what.
10
10 is a sacred number
I learned that from a dog.
Sen is half coonhound, half
yellow lab. ‘Breeder’s dog,’
said Chihiro, ‘had an affair
with my neighbour’s dog.
That’s why she’s not pure lab.’
Sen has been with the musician
all her life. Chihiro calls herself
‘Sen’s foot servant.’
Since turning deaf, Sen
no longer trusts absence.
After 10 days without Chihiro
she stops eating, ignores
the kindness of the people
looking after her. Chihiro
cuts short her visit
to Japan or the U. S.
and flies back to Vancouver.
Why 10 days? Each time.
Is Sen part of a universal rhythm
humans also move to?
10 being the number
of heaven and the world –
considered the holiest number –
the one 6th century BC Pythagorians
took their oath by, combining
mathematics with mysticism.
10 is a sacred number.
As soon as Chihiro walks in
Sen’s interest in living returns.
She follows her human around
until the old rhythm
settles back in.
10 is the first number
that needs a companion part.
10 is the beginning of a new cycle.
10 is a sacred number.
10 fingers for humans
to create new worlds.
It took Odysseus 10 years
to return home
from the 10 year War of Troy.
10 days to an elderly dog
living in silence – like
10 years to a human.
Sen is participating
in an ancient rite
and Fate is cooperating.
Sen is Japanese for ‘ thousand’.
10 is a sacred number –
Sen taught me that.
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