Fear
Cynthia Zhang
Written on December 25, 2016

Fear

Fear swells out of opened pores with sweat.

Fear upsets the stomach with funny dances.

Fear feeds on the human scarring of

The impeccable face of morality and principle.

Fear keeps us alive.

Fear drives us away to run for our lives.

Fear is one loose end on the fabric of life

Woven together by a million threads of

Care and love.

Friendship
Cynthia Zhang
Written on  November 10, 2011

Friendship

 

Warm and clear,

Like the high notes

On a master violin,

Friendship nurtures you.

 

Firm like a rock,

Friends tell you

To eat,

To drink, and

To move around.

 

Tiptoeing around you,

Friends wait for you

To be strong enough

To fly again

In the sky

Free and high.

November 16, 2016
A correction to the November 14th post. It was at the 2012 Denver ASA annual meeting where I met Professor Stryker.

Four
Cynthia Zhang
Written on November 12, 2016

Four

In commemoration of Professor Shel Stryker.

二零一二年八月十七日

          初次见到司卓克教授是在四年前的纽约ASA 年会上，身份理论论文组。我是该组第二个发言人。当我站到讲台后准备开始讲解我的博士论文时，我注意到坐在第一排中间位置的一位年长的教授：他神色肃穆，双臂交叉，腿前伸，目光炯炯地注视着我。诺大的会议室坐满了人，但唯独这位教授审视的态度引人注目。

          我按照事前演练阐释了我的论文，落座静听后面两位学者同事的论文。最后一位作者结束时放映了一张照片，特意点指照片中的一位教授：司卓克教授。直到这时我才恍然大悟：原来听众中的长者就是司卓克教授，身份理论的主要创始人。我的论文主要应用身份理论。

          论文演讲结束后是社会心理学的酒会。我来到会场，人头攒动。我看到司卓克教授在与参会者和蔼寒暄。在一位我的论文委员会成员的鼓励下，我主动向司卓克教授作了自我介绍。司卓克教授满面笑容，双手握着我的手，字字清晰：“你做了我想做却没能做到的事情。”我询问教授：“那您能阅读我的论文草稿吗？”司卓克教授的回答是：“没问题。”

          从那天起，直到一年半后我的论文全部结束，司卓克教授始终是我论文的热心读者和编校。在论文写作完成的最后半年里，司卓克教授从病榻上给我发来了他对整篇论文的修改意见。

          四年后的西雅图ASA年会上，同是社会心理学的酒会，同是司卓克教授的旧友，往日的欢笑难再，落寞的等候写在悲伤的脸上。去年的寂寥期盼是写在司卓克教授的脸上的吧？

Darkness
By Cynthia Zhang
(Written in October, 2009)

Darkness

Darkness from dusk.

Darkness from canopies of trees.

Darkness arises in my heart.

Humidity in the air.

Humidity in the blood of leaves.

Humidity blinds my eyes.

I cannot see the rich colors

Of people, autumn and life.

I live in a cocoon weaved by me

Surrounding myself.

Virginia’s Laugh – Home Coming

This world is still new to me.

I have to clutch Mommy’s neck.

I wonder why people are running around

And they place stuff on the table.

Mm… smells different

From Mommy’s milk

And the tart or whatever flavor

I like.

But there is a temptation

To that scent.

The sun comes in the window

Univited.

Daddy’s busy scooping…

Stuff

From the hot oven.

Brian is ogling the floor.

He’s like a snake

Slithering among the trunks

Of adult legs.

And I am here

With Mommy!

She carries me

And I am taller than

Anyone!

And I am NOT to compromise

With the dazzling craziness

Around me.

But I feel something

Approaching.

A gentle petting

Feeling almost like rubbing

On my back.

I could not help.

I have to laugh

Because it feels so right.

I have to laugh and laugh.

The petting is so encouraging.

It warms my body

As if I am touched by…

Something.

The stranger laughs with me.

Oh, I am even happier.

I have to laugh more.

Hello, stranger,

Thank you

For your petting.

Hello world,

I have been with you

For so long

And I am ready

To be one of you

Now.

 Ｃｙｎｔｈｉａ　Ｚｈａｎｇ

Ｗｒｉｔｔｅｎ　２０１２

FOUR
This is a prose in commemoration of Professor Stryker.

四

          司卓克教授生命的最后四年和我人生中最艰难的四年相互重叠。司卓克教授用他的生命为我的生命注入了救命的血液。司卓克教授的生命结束于三个月前。在无时不刻的思念中，我写下此文。

二零一六年七月二十二日

          淅淅沥沥的小雨暂歇。陵园草色青青，寂静无人。在黑色铁栅栏圈起的犹太人墓地里，司卓克教授的陵寝下陷，上覆黄土，并无墓碑。据陵园管理人员的介绍，这是犹太人传统。犹太人通常不筑墓穴，只葬棺木。逝者入土一年后，压实陵寝，植草于陵寝上，并树墓碑。

          司卓克教授于五月四日去世，时间距今两个多月。凹陷的黄冢上零星有几颗长荒了的野草，与四周修剪整齐、青翠欲滴的草坪对比鲜明。与其陵寝并肩的是他妻子的陵墓。灵前的碑文镌刻：爱丽丝.司卓克，逝于二零零九年。

          陵园管理人员离开后，我肃立在司卓克教授陵前良久。眼前的黄土让我不得不面对现实：教授已乘鹤仙去，此世已再难寻其音容。唯一值得欣慰的是，我不必再担心找不到他。他生前他的子女常为他一连几天杳无音信但心不已。

To be continued.

I've Got a Red Eye

I’ve Got a Red Eye

I’ve got a red eye,

Therefore I sit on the patio,

To release pressure from reading,

And to enjoy the late summer green.

The orange sun is setting in the west,

The black birds are hovering over their nests.

A frog croaks a lonely song,

My neighbor walks her waterdog in sandal thongs.

Everything is in its usual place,

Including the two stools standing side by side

Like two loyal waitresses.

But my parents are not sitting on the stools,

They are gone without a trace.

I touch my right eye.

It is red with strange white lumps.

I got this red eye on a trip with my parents,

A sense of driver’s responsibility drove my eye nuts.

I got a red eye.

My mother could not speak to me without a sigh.

She figured she must always be by my side.

Keeping me from a disease tide.

So she sat in my sofa bed,

Sharing with me thoughts in her head.

I rolled over to appreciate her profile,

Wishing time could turn into a copying machine

To keep the moment on file.  

I got a red eye.

My father found himself a new job.

He put eye drops in my eye.

I could see his wrists throb .

While he was carrying out his nursing duty,

I smiled till my face froze,

Wondering if I could survive in a few days at ten thirty,

When their farewell arms to me rose.

I sit on the patio,

Hearing the bugs chirp,

After the sun is gone without a trace.

Without a trace like my parents.

Then I climb onto a stool,

Remembering that still

I’ve got a red eye.

(Cynthia Zhang, written on August 29th, 2009)

Shame
Cynthia Zhang
Written on December 24, 2012

Shame

Innocence is a sin.

An untried heart imagines

He reigns.

Innocence has a baby face.

But he puts on 

Masks of disguise

To play with the unfortunate

Damned corrupted men.

Innocence hates sins.

His will not to sin

Is almost as white

As a baby’s soft bottom.

But one day,

Innocence finds himself

Fall

Through the crack of

The heaven:

His cleverness defeats

His intelligence.

Innocence finally sins.

A true human being

He becomes.

Cruise
Cynthia Zhang
Written on May 10, 2016

Cruise

In Commemoration of Professor Shel Stryker

A white cruise ship arrives

On a fine day of May 4

To welcome Shel,

After his journey of a life time

Beginning with his late wife

On the North Sea.

Rays from the cruise

Enliven the world,

Tinge lovers’ eyes with hues of affection,

And touch the chord of the heart

With melody played by nymphs

Living in the North Pole on a crystal violin.

The cruise ship of Shel’s love

Once visited a warm corner

In a Bloomington hall

Reflecting an afternoon sun

Squeezing in through the glazed glass

With apologetic anxiety for attention.

The cruise ship of Shel’s devotion

Followed Shel

Through the darkness of

Despair and depletion

To recovery after recovery.

When their day comes,

The white cruise of two people

Sets sail

For a new life.

Suitcase, Just the Way You Are
Cynthia Zhang
Written on March 27, 2016

Suitcase, Just the Way You Are

I don’t remember

It’s four years or seven years…

It feels like four years,

Sometimes seven years.

For seven years,

Dust has collected

On that suitcase

Standing in the corner

Of my bedroom.

I once carried that suitcase

The other end of the globe

Where my daughter is

And dragged it back.

I believe it was seven years ago.

Since then,

I’ve been looking at that suitcase

Growing so big…

And heavy.

For four years,

I have longed to see my daughter

At the door

Carrying her suitcase.

A suitcase in her hand

Should shrink as my thought of her

Should bring wings to her shoulders.

I heard a knock on the door…

I opened the door and looked to the right.

No one.

I looked to the left.

There she is,

With a suitcase so small

In her healthy hand and smile…