of egg coffee and banh mi
to rocky islands in the sea
tiny, tidy market stalls
to the mammoth shopping malls
once a town in ruin and rubble
I saw not an ounce of past troubles
maybe a bullet-pocked citadel
though it be true that war is hell
it's also a terrible liar
as if the world could be remade through blood and fire.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry, Vietnam and tagged Hanoi, poem, poetry, travel, Vietnam by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
