Heartbreaking story mother told

Mom sitting by the door

Falling leaves... a falling leaf...
One day... one day... one day
Mom sat counting her fingers
One is over fifty, the other is in his sixties.
The boy is clearly fresh.
The body is big but light like a person in the clouds.
The boy accidentally came or not?
Waking up in the middle of the night to plow under the moonlight
The little boy is so hot.
Every meal he eats from a bowl...
Now no door, no home
War... who knows the distance...
Autumn is golden, the yard is full of sunshine and wind
Falling leaves... I thought it was someone's footsteps...

HAI THANH

Image“Leaves fall... I think it's someone's footsteps returning”has been mentioned in poetry quite a lot. It's true to say it's old. But I don't understand why with the songMom sitting by the doorof the poet Hai Thanh, I can't bear to think like that. There is a feeling of sobbing, of pain that is hard to describe when encountering that seemingly very ordinary image.

Imagine: A mother who is too old and withered (because her children are already "some in their fifties, some in their sixties"), still leaning against the door every day, her eyes are cloudy and dry from crying for her children, looking far away... She is counting each falling leaf with her ears that are probably no longer sensitive, her hands are wrinkled, counting each dry and skinny knuckle, calculating the days and months since her children left and have not returned... Is there any reader who does not feel a stinging in the corner of their eyes when encountering that haunting poetic image?

Mom is old, most likely she is still suffering from the foolishness and confusion of old age. But her memories of her children are not mistaken. She remembers her children clearly from their appearance, temperament to their behavior:“The big boy is so fresh/ His body is big but light like someone in the clouds/ The little boy is so good/ He wakes up in the middle of the night to plow under the moon/ The little boy is so eager/ Every meal he eats a bowl of rice...”.

Only then will the reader realize. Mother is not just sitting there counting the fallen leaves, hoping for a miracle to bring her children back. Mother is telling stories and is proud of her children. Her old hands are touching, cherishing, and fondling the photos, the frames of the Fatherland's recognition. And those are her children: One is clearly cheerful, one is clearly healthy, one is diligent and hard-working. Mother's children are beautiful in both appearance and character. The way she calls her children's names: "big boy, middle boy, little boy"The overly rustic, overly affectionate nature of the mother in the poem makes the feeling of pain and loss invade the space and soul of the reader.

“Now that the door is closed and the house is empty/ The war... who knows if the road is far or near/ The golden autumn sun and wind fill the yard/ The leaves fall, I think someone is coming home...”. Four short verses but somehow they sound like they contain so many sighs of hopelessness. If the mother in the poem"Country"by poet Ta Huu Yen “Three times seeing off the child, twice crying silently” means there is still a child returning, supporting the mother in her lonely old age. Then the mother in Hai Thanh’s poem is truly penniless! How painful!

Not a single word is too big or too small. Each verse, each line of poetry seems light but its power to condemn the unjust war is so profound and so strong. And that is truly what life needs every poet and writer to contribute their voice to, through literary works that are both rich in realism and imbued with humanity, such asMom sitting by the doorby poet Hai Thanh.