The Trial of Rights

I possess the right to create

To weave a wreath for abandoned pets

To write a prescription for children in hospital beds

To fashion a gentle casket for the spirit

To compose the soul’s first love poem

I possess the right to solitude

Like a firefly foraging alone through midsummer woods

Like reefs silent in dusk upon Malaysia’s shallows

The protagonist in every midnight meditation

Walking endless corridors, playing cat and sunset

I have the right to feel compassion

For the ephemeral flower that never kissed the dawn

For the butterfly who said life has but three seasons

For the vagabonds who shun the crisp autumn

In my verse, I grant them lodging for a few nights

I also have the right to repent

Regretting greed, wishing for one more blossom than spring

To reproach the egret, who brought spring back yet paused not at my window

To regret failing to guard compassion well

Wasting the antidote upon the devil’s lips

In youth, the judge sealed the verdict

I was still arrested and imprisoned

A resigned whisper drifted from behind

Child, you forgot that being loved is also a right