“Two Fathers Died, but They Never Wanted a Prayer” by Noah Chang

Touching the pale grandfather skin,

whiter than a Yankie’s sunscreen,

colder than my mother’s dry eyes,

skinnier than last time I needed my eyes,

one God soldier, once elevator boy,

who learned English from military boys,

he died on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor,

he let out a breath, my dad continued his CPR-

thinking he was living...going to living.

I had to bow at least a hundred times,

for a grandfather with a different last name-

I couldn’t even bow once

for a grandfather with the same last name-

so- I did for public image,

but moreso because I was scared my uncle

might throw a bottle of soju on my head

glass cuts through my brain-

I even missed my graduation.

But more importantly,

I was lazy as fuck,

while my mother cried her soul out,

I was just too lazy...

too dreamy to clench my feet from the static ground

now I think in bed...

I have to do this again?

when my parents die?

Oh what a good man,

scrupulous enough to go to hell

pounding the shit out of me,

so on and son...

Two fathers died, but they never wanted a prayer.

Just two grandmothers devout to god,

a two dogs to god...

love is a dog from hell

and i mourn for my mother.

she must be from hell,

or why would i love her?

Noah Chang is an undergraduate student and a philosopher at the University of Michigan. He produced numerous historical documentaries and research papers regarding topics about Korean comfort women, Covid-19 and climate change, and the Coordinate Axes model: humanism vs materialism. Furthermore, he researched topics like Nepal’s microdust problems, overfishing and overexploitation of BFT in the Mediterranean Sea. He had been published in The Revolutionary Review and participated in the Macksey Symposium. He quotes himself as an avid reader of philosophy, but he wasn't able to finish reading Hegel, Nietzche, and Kierkegaard.