One Duck Egg (Pong Teah)
Shuffling quietly in the darkness of early dawn
Trickling water poured into a cup, gulping down
Wearing the only set of mud dyed tattered clothes she owned
Ragged krama draped around her neck to keep her warm
Mother turned around climbed down
The rung steps of the stilt hay roof, dried palm frond walls hut
Her barefoot steps hasten against the dry dusty dirt to catch up with the voices distant away.
Singular skinny silhouette disappeared into the distant horizon
Day after days mother left before sunrise
Dusk after dusk she returned exhausted
Face wearing worries and fear
Her dear children skin and bone
Heads looking like Ti Mong
Mother came back from the field one day.
Unrolled her pants waist, carefully pulled out a magnificent egg.
Boiled it in the kettle with care.
Peeled it gently and buried the shell hurriedly
Divided it amongst us five children,
Take care to give more to our youngest because of his feebleness.
Leaving nothing for herself.
Day after day we wait for her return like chicks in nest to be fed
Snail, grasshopper, crickets, tarantula, millipede
We awaited with anticipation what the rolled pant waist holds.