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…

Distance
Cynthia Zhang
December 28, 2015

Distance

A large brown seagull walked in

The brilliant afternoon sunshine.

It was October.

A broken wing from his shoulder

Draped on the fine sand.

The seagull walked loyally

By a lady’s side.

His steps caught up with hers.

In December,

The sun is still shining.

The sea is still blue.

There are still seagulls and people

On the beach.

What did the October seagull want?

Did he live on-lookers’ comment he was

“Too common to be rescued?”