It is real, isn’t it?

It is real, isn’t it?

(a poem for HIV / AIDS Day, December 1)

Gloomy Wednesday morning

It brought long painful shock to be healed

Even Sunday was not shining

So many dark sides should be revealed

Memory is not always about sweetness

Sometime it makes us hurt and gives us bitterness

Some other times it borrows us love

But only in this way we can learn how to live

Hundred times she asks

Does God give it as her curse?Or as an ordeal?

Thousand times God answers

It’s not a big deal

Day by day, these tiny black dots come up

Spread out from the top to the bottom of their body

Itcy, croup, and fever are never truly covered up

Like happy mushrooms in rainy

Terrible weariness is a new best friend

Ready to come whenever it wants

While only distrust left for real former friend

Pulled away from their side whatever it takes

Even if they lost much of their weight,

Even if they lost their grateful health,

Even if they lost a lot of wealth,

Promise they’d love to keep in faith.

Life is too priceless to be ended this way

Even death approaches closer than another day

Nothing can change the gift of precious life

No matter what God puts into their chance of life

There must be a reason for any storm cloud

And there must be a rainbow after all

As red as saint blood

So then the virus could leave them all