<p class="ql-block">父亲的手</p><p class="ql-block">文/Anna惠子 香莲</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">一天你撕布条缠手</p><p class="ql-block">我凑近细看——那裂痕如新垦的田垄</p><p class="ql-block">血迹蜿蜒成沟渠</p><p class="ql-block">尚幼的我，还不会表达感情</p><p class="ql-block">但心里，狂风抽树枝喊不出的痛</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">你总是在天未亮出门</p><p class="ql-block">用锄头镰刀敲响泥土的浊音</p><p class="ql-block">天黑的路上</p><p class="ql-block">你的身影挑着一家人的生计</p><p class="ql-block">除夕的傍晚</p><p class="ql-block">我就早早站在路口</p><p class="ql-block">盼你早点收工</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">唯有一年，你未让我在寒风中悬望</p><p class="ql-block">可你凝视我狼吞虎咽时，筷子始终未动</p><p class="ql-block">母亲夹起一块鸡肉放入你碗中</p><p class="ql-block">你摆手说“胃疼”，却将温情藏进皱纹</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">那些堆积的记忆</p><p class="ql-block">是照见我前路的明镜</p><p class="ql-block">我默默做事，任风雨割裂肌肤</p><p class="ql-block">无论受到怎样伤害</p><p class="ql-block">从未停止</p><p class="ql-block">因我是你的女儿</p><p class="ql-block">血脉里总刻着你的倔强</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">2025年6月15日</p> <p class="ql-block">Father's Day</p><p class="ql-block">By Anna Keiko Xianglian</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">One day, you tore cloth strips to bind your hands</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">I leaned close—the cracks like newly tilled furrows</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Bloodstains winding into canals</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">As a child, I could not yet voice my feelings</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">But inside, a storm lashed branches, a pain unspoken</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">You always left before dawn</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Your hoe and sickle striking the earth’s dull thud</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">On the darkened road</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Your shadow carried the stars, the moon, and our family’s bread</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">On New Year’s Eve, as dusk fell</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">I stood early at the roadside</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Longing for your return from work</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Only once did you spare me from waiting in the cold wind</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">But as you watched me devour my meal, your chopsticks stayed still</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Mother placed a piece of chicken in your bowl</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">You waved it away, saying, “My stomach aches,” yet hid tenderness in your wrinkles</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Those accumulated memories</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Are mirrors reflecting the path I tread</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">I work silently, let the storm lash my skin</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">No matter the wounds I endure</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">I never halt</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">For I am your daughter</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">In my veins, your stubbornness is etched</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">June 15, 2025</p>