‘Yawm Txiv’ & ‘I Am Here’

The Refugee as Abolition: Commemorating the 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon

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The Refugee as Abolition: Commemorating the 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon -

《和爸爸聊》// chatting with dad - Ellen Zhang

Michelle Yang

Yawm Txiv

The window seat, he sits 

Where stillness meets wonder 

The tenderness of his gaze follows 

He traces the squirrels 

rabbits, the garden that grows 

I search his honeyed eyes 

A reservoir of sacrifice, 

Crinkled skin, a life etched into every line 

His hands bare and weak, a job that 

Stole his sense of smell 

He turns to me and smiles. 

The window is his haven 

A portal of simple joys 

Every time I come back from school 

I find him there, waiting 

My Yawm Txiv 

Thaum kuv pom cov daus poob los, kuv nco hais tias koj yuav rov los tsev. 

When I see the snow falling, I remember you are coming back 

Lwm tus txawm yusv txeeb tau koj ib puas tsam yam los tsis muaj leej twg yuav txeeb tau koj txoj kev Txawj ntse 

They can take everything away, but your knowledge

I am here 

I am here 

I extend my hand to the crowd 

Filling my wrists with blessings 

White strings, Khi tes 

The smell of incense sticks weave through the air

The life of a pig and chicken 

The American dream— 

Blonde hair and family escapes, 

Brick houses standing tall, 

Where I sat, quiet, cradling envy. 

No rice, no pepper’s warmth, 

Just peanut butter, 

Every single day. 

I am here 

The living room floor, folding socks 

Saturday mornings selling greens with my Naim Tais

Creasing paper money 

Plating food for the unseen 

Spending every weekend with my clan. 

The crisp air tingles my nose 

I grip onto my backpack 

Fueled by a fire that whispers 

“You must be something more” 

But the air is thick with guilt, 

Home a distant melody 

I am here 

To occupy the space carved from sacrifice,

To justify the miles left behind 

A dream that is both mine and borrowed. 

Its warmth fading with every step forward,

Each success a reminder of what I’ve left. 

I am here, 

Yet a part of me remains, 

Rooted in the soil of a home I cannot hold,

Living a dream that costs more than I can

repay