Dragon Lake
Bao Peng sat back and lit his pipe,
The hob was cold, the ash quite dead,
He drew a tiny firelight
That lit the scar high on his head.
While Zhang was hushed, he gathered round
Each brother, cousin; neighbours too,
‘Bao Peng will not begin his tale
Until your silence asks him to! ’
‘In years gone by, ’ Bao Peng began,
‘When revolution ruled this land,
Our village lived at peace back then,
We helped each other, as we can!
We grew rice in the paddy fields
Kept pigs and horses, sheep and game,
And lived, though poor, contentedly
Until the Helmsman’s Red Guards came.’
‘We drew our water from the lake
And shared in everything we grew,
The Buddhists had a temple there
A thousand years, for all we knew.
They held our manuscripts and deeds,
Cared for our souls, and history,
These holy men did no-one harm
But lived an ageless mystery!
The Red Guards came, in gangs and droves,
Just schoolkids really, like some mob,
With filthy mouths they screamed at us,
Then beat our women, killed our dogs.
They made us swear to love their Mao,
To hate the ‘Olds’ - old buildings, books,
We didn’t stand a chance -’ Peng stopped…
And felt the scar from Red Guard hooks!
‘They killed my wife, Mei Fang, ’ he said,
‘They stoned her up on Bullock Hill, ’
The tears streamed freely down his cheeks
And we could see, he loved her still!
‘And then they went down to the lake
To burn the temple, burn the books,
The monks were slaughtered, beaten down
With clubs and knives, with swords and hooks! ’
‘The flames came through the Temple roof,
The pages of the books were charred,
We stood well back, as well we knew
What they’d not know - the Beijing Guard!
A form stirred deep within the lake,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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