June Flower
In Commemoration of My Mother
Cynthia Zhang
Written on June 20, 2018
六月花
致母亲
我目睹你释放进入自然
三月还是冬天
四月五月万物生长
当六月到来
夏花铺满道路两旁
十年前的努力
化作了赏心悦目的现实
你在每一株每一个花朵里
就像我在环保的人海里
这也是你的理想不是吗?
我为人人,人人为我。
Saturday, July 14, 2018
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Sitting in Mom's Class
Cynthia Zhang
Written on September 25, 2011
Cynthia Zhang
Written on September 25, 2011
Sitting in Mom's Class
I smiled to my memory of mom
As my first English teacher.
I cannot help wondering
What it took for her to teach me
In a class she organized for me.
I can still see my childhood friends
Chasing, laughing, peeking into
That secret cage of a caught owl.
I just begin to see mom
In a very different light
As a young, vibrant, and cordial
Companion and teacher.
She is an un-erasable element
In everything I have become.
And I want to grow with another human
being
Into something bigger than the two of
us.
Something knit together by an
irresistable
Urge to embrace each other as
Companion, comrade, and the eventual
home.
Just like the home mom built for me
With warmth, understanding, and
knowledge.
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Saturday, October 14, 2017
Memories
Cynthia Zhang
Written October 2009
Cynthia Zhang
Written October 2009
Memories
Memories without photos are pearls.
They shimmer in the darkness when the sand around them is filtered again and
again by time.
Memories with photos age. They cannot
help. When the frames of the photos turn yellow (in the computer age, photos
age as technology evolves), memories dim with the dated background and the
old-fashioned clothes, hairstyle and smile. The only pleasant reason for
flipping through old photos is to find a wrinkleless, fresh face. That face
answers your questions about the growing youth around you.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
