The Other Half Dreams Us

Written by Xiang Li from West Morris Mendham High School in New Jersey, USA

We are the moon’s echo on this side of the sea,

split light drifting in American dawn.

Mom and I bloom in a borrowed land,

roots tangled in soil that doesn’t know our names,

split light drifting in American dawn.

In China, our other half dreams of us

roots tangled in soil that doesn’t know our names.

Every meal my mother builds by hand.

In China, the other half dreams of us.

My father, thunder behind distant hills.

Every meal my mother builds by hand,

wishing for a day when we will meet again.

My father, thunder behind distant hills.

Phones become lanterns in the evening glow,

wishing for a day when we will meet again,

folding letters in clouds I cannot hold.

Phones become lanterns in the evening glow.

Your silence reaches farther than I can go.

Folding letters in clouds I cannot hold,

a riddle of love that stretches endlessly.

Your silence reaches farther than I can go.

I carry them both in my chest like breath.

A riddle of love that stretches endlessly,

but even the sun splits east to west.

I carry them both in my chest like breath.

We are puzzle pieces scattered across skies,

and the sun splits east to west:

a family drawn in ink and longing.

We are puzzle pieces scattered across skies.

Mom and I bloom in a borrowed land.

Here is a family drawn by ink and longing—

physically separated, but forever together.

We are the moon’s echo on this side of the sea.