我今天可以说话了

by Sarah Feng (10)

Thousands of students marched through the capital [Beijing] to Tiananmen Square in April 1989, calling for a more democratic government. In the weeks that followed, thousands of people joined the students to protest against China’s communist rule. After several weeks of demonstrations, Chinese troops entered Tiananmen Square on June 4 and fired on civilians. It has been estimated that as many as 10,000 people were arrested during and after the protests. Several dozen people have been executed for their parts in the demonstrations.

* mother, do you know: today, at seven intersections, lights blink green. a flood swarms around the metal ark. sky splitting open, seven pairs of lips glow a pulpy red. our motherland made up of plumes of screeching smog.

(call me a nationalist, or call me an inmate.)

今天，我终于能 够说话了.[1]

(mother, i no longer taste salt when i speak.)

i wonder if noise could marble skin.

thrashing, i stream down legs and through breasts, lay myself bare on tiled domes of tiananmen, curl up in heat-bruised passionfruit splitting by the butcher. revolution is a big word & so is 我-爱-国.[2] the wind shreds the portrait of old Mao into confetti. i strip myself bare & dance in the ribbons. mother, i am writing to you from my prison cell. tomorrow, at eight, my execution. we drink the catharsis with our hands. mother, i am gulping down the air until my mouth bleeds like our flag.

[Title] Today, I can speak.

[1] Today, I can finally talk again.

[2] I love my country. Information about the 1989 protest courtesy of CNN. Winner of a 2017 Teen Sequin Award

by Arnav Aggarwal (12)

I dragged my mind back to the cold medical room from its aimless wandering when I saw tears running down my mother’s face. Did I miss something that the oncologist said? “Eight months of chemotherapy?” asked my mother. “Yes, we need to prevent any recurrence,” stressed the oncologist.

It was a surreal moment — I had always thought that the bump in my arm would be removed by a simple surgery, but this benign mix of muscle, calcium and bone had mutated into a rare bone cancer, osteosarcoma, and would need to be treated as soon as possible.

I was mentally lost in all the fuss, tears, and hushed tones at home. The next day was spent getting chest CT scans, full body MRI images, and blood tests. Before I knew what was really going on, I was admitted to the hospital to start chemotherapy.

Lying in bed with IV drips going into a port in my chest, I still felt a little distant and unsure if this was really happening to me. After all, I was finally a second semester senior that everyone had been buzzing about. I was wrapping up college applications, going snowboarding in Tahoe, and planning Spring Break with my friends. There were still so many things I had to do, but that seemed all the more distant watching teams of nurses and doctors come and go from the side of my hospital bed. I shrugged off the sinking feeling and told my friends I would see them on the paintball field on the weekend.

Two days after my first treatment, I lay in bed listless and weak, dreading the next wave of nausea. Would I really have to go through eight months of this? It finally sunk in that my life would be very different than the one I had planned for the next eight months.

On the fifth day, I felt like my normal self again, was back on my feet, and looking forward to a good few weeks before going back for my next round of chemotherapy.

But nobody had told me yet about the surgery to remove the tumor in my arm and its impact. Listening to the surgeon talk about the size of the tumor, the impact on the nerves in my hand, and the overall functionality of my hand for the rest of my life was the hardest and most numbing conversation I had. Words that I always thought were taboo — “amputate” and “limb salvation” — were discussed openly.

I blocked all thought about the conversation from my mind for the next couple of days. But in my moments alone, I thought about that conversation. I knew that I was not in the driver’s seat of my own life anymore. The thought will always echo, perhaps forever — “why ME?”

I searched online and realized I was not alone. A lot of children, some even younger than me, had been through this and lived successful, meaningful lives. They had adapted to what life threw at them and did not allow their handicaps to impact their goals.

I am determined to succeed in my goals that I set before life threw me this curveball. I know I will have my down moments, but I only ask for the strength to remember the strong moments to push past the weak.

Tabula Rasa

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