by Sha Huang
They all say this year will be written into the history book:
Mountain fire, locust, a pandemic that you will not see
in a hundred years,
Angry crowds, division, violence
Many people lost their lives.
Some restaurants, book stores, and cafés may die too,
along with the memory attached to them.
A friend of mine disappeared out of the blue,
while another friend is having a hand-to-hand combat with cancer.
Keep writing and painting on a quiet summer afternoon.
Let the flowers, branches and rivers grow.
Or take a walk with family and friends, chatting,
creating fresh memory to nourish our intertwined roots,
and to resist the robbery conducted by time and chance.
Sha Huang was born and grew up in Chengdu, China. She writes, translates and paints. Her poems and translations have been published in multiple literary journals and anthologies in China such as Young writers, Chinese and Western Poetry, Anthology of Chinese Poetry 2019, Thatched Cottage, and Chinese Poetry. She is currently teaching Chinese language and culture at a university in the U.S. Varada J.M is a 9th-grader based in Kerala’s Koyilandi, studying at Rani Public School, Vadakara. After hurriedly doing homework, Varada divides her time between practicing classical dance and watching horror films. She loves dogs but nobody at home wants one.