與桂華逛街 / Sylvia Lok-wan Ng

我牽著你走到人來人往的街中
你看著店舖前的人龍，問
他們是否為了輪水而排隊

我看得入了神
幽靈一般的他們提著剛添置的手袋
皮袋上的花紋跟滿足的笑臉一樣公式化
排著最前頭的幽靈打開了袋
鬆開了水龍頭
清涼的水哇啦哇啦地注滿了神聖的容器

你說，你再也聽不見從前的笑聲
假日的街道
因為被幽靈霸佔了而變得寧靜
你眼中只有搖晃的影像
他們走得太快，而你看得太慢

你說，你唯一能看清的是從前的風景
但幽靈供給的養份令大廈只能長高
歲月定格在發黃的照片
我反覆默唸你的一字一句
也無法拼湊成完整的故事

我牽著你，在幽靈之間穿插
就如你曾經牽著我走過緩慢的長街

(20090324)
This is a poem dedicated to my grandmother, Lee Kwai Wah (1910-2009). Since farewelling my grandma, I have always wanted to write a poem for her. At her funeral, I heard the story of her generosity over and over, but I could never get involved with it because I have never lived in her times. I envy my mother, aunts and uncles so much for having been witnesses of the tales I heard.

One of the best memory I had with my grandma is that, on a summer day while I was still in primary school, she and I took a long walk, from Kennedy Town to Sheung Wan, and then we window-shopped at a department store. It did not cost us anything but the memory is priceless. So I imagine taking grandma to Tsim Sha Tsui, to take a long walk like we had, and listen to pieces of her story. As usual, I can catch phrases from her mouth, but I have never been living in the story. The characters in her stories are mostly dead but they are more alive to her than the living does--everyone looks ghostly in her blurry vision.

Sylvia Lok-wan Ng is a student from CLIT2018 Critiques of Modernity 2008-2009 second semester.