1958-1961
by Julie Leung
In those years,
you and I were told to leap
for a world suffused with sound
and industry.
They taught you to kneel,
heavy and ox-like,
in the rice fields.
You drowned your books in the mud
and I forgot the old ways of writing.
You and I were told to leap
for a leaden world, silenced.
And when you fell under its weight,
they dragged you through the public square.
I pried the slivers of glass out of your knees
and removed the placard from around your neck.
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89 words
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Author's Note
Inspired by my grandmother, who survived the Cultural Revolution and brought these stories with her.
Other stories by Julie Leung
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For those who remember, and those who have yet to know it, this is a chilling and powerful evocation.
Strong, lean writing. Very, very powerful. Terrific finish. Fav.
Powerful. That last stanza is amazing.
Beautifully done, Julie.
powerful work, stunning in all senses. *
*
Marvelous work, Julie - Strong lines:
"You drowned your books in the mud
and I forgot the old ways of writing.
You and I were told to leap
for a leaden world, silenced."
Goodness. I like this piece.
This event is so seldom linked with the realities of those affected. This brings it home nicely.
"... leap for a leaden world, silenced." Magnificent picture.
Powerful poem. Especially the last stanza. I appreciate how you wove us a history lesson through the personal. Peace *
Absolutely wonderful poem, Julie. A definite Fave*!
Strong poem. Nice work.
Thank you one and all for the wildly encouraging feedback! Being the first poem I've written in two years, your kind words have awakened an old beast that has been dormant for quite some time.
"they dragged you through the public square./I pried the slivers of glass out of your knees/and removed the placard from around your neck."
Chilling and intimate. Heart gripping.
Sparse and powerful. Images everywhere, clear and haunting.