All the Difference
for Vera, a true diamond
by Andrea Chang, 14 When the world was mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful And the air was green with promise At holiday camp when I was nine We were canoeing and hiking and digging for mushrooms In rich, loamy earth With plastic spoons from the commissary And our fingers as shovels Happily caked in raw earth and smiling like a macaques monkey I tripped and cut my big toe on a rock Which swelled up to the size of an elephant! In a tornado of tears I sat trapped in a wheelchair by the lake My foot bandaged and throbbing like red lightning As I watched the other children canoeing and hiking and digging for mushrooms While I sat like a pouty mummy in a chair “Why are you crying, little girl?” asked a woman scented like the sun Her sunburned freckles danced on her face As she leaned over me Her eyes crinkling with concern “Well, look at my foot. What should I do, laugh?” The woman smiled. “What’s your name?” I lifted my chin. “Vruka Diamantova.” The woman’s eyes lit. “Ah, you are a diamond. You must be crying real pearls.” I grew three inches with her words As the image of me, a brilliant diamond, Erupted in my mind Diamonds are beautiful yet gritty With the patience to bloom over one to three billion years I, too, have this patience I thought, gazing at my tiny toe with a new respect Somehow it was no longer as big as an elephant I didn’t know the woman’s words and my decision to own them Would one day save my life Our lives are made up of so many decisions That over years coalesce into character I didn’t know that because I was brave That a year later, after Kristallnacht, Mother would have the courage and confidence to send me alone on a train for England To live with a family she had never seen I didn’t know that one camp counselor’s words And a little girl’s decision to own them Would save me from cemetery silence So if ever you think That what you do doesn’t matter And how you think doesn’t change anything Know that for me One woman’s words And a little girl’s decision to embrace them Made all the difference |
Alma at the Gate
by Andrea Chang, 13
Her grey thoughts lay comatose
in the cold mausoleum of her mind,
rain like stale bread still lingering
on her tongue
They wouldn’t let her through
She had come all this way
through roiling seas
and a road that never ended
until it did
at this razor wire fence
with the guards in the green uniforms and the cold eyes
refusing to see that her feet were shredded and bloody from walking
Let my daughter through, she cried
I do not claim the right to live for myself
but let my daughter through
I just want her to go to school
to grow up in a house with bread on the table
and the sound of laughter instead of bombs
But no one heard this mother’s cries
They were too busy worrying about
their bad hair day
the deadline at the office
and the credit card bill on the table
that said ‘past due’
And so
mother and daughter waited in the cold
their pockets empty
with not a crumb to eat
as the guards in the green uniforms and the cold eyes
stared
willing them to turn into shadows
Her grey thoughts lay comatose
in the cold mausoleum of her mind,
rain like stale bread still lingering
on her tongue
They wouldn’t let her through
She had come all this way
through roiling seas
and a road that never ended
until it did
at this razor wire fence
with the guards in the green uniforms and the cold eyes
refusing to see that her feet were shredded and bloody from walking
Let my daughter through, she cried
I do not claim the right to live for myself
but let my daughter through
I just want her to go to school
to grow up in a house with bread on the table
and the sound of laughter instead of bombs
But no one heard this mother’s cries
They were too busy worrying about
their bad hair day
the deadline at the office
and the credit card bill on the table
that said ‘past due’
And so
mother and daughter waited in the cold
their pockets empty
with not a crumb to eat
as the guards in the green uniforms and the cold eyes
stared
willing them to turn into shadows
Castle in My Hands
by Andrea Chang, 12
I hold a castle in my hands
Cupped in a pool of water
Tall and white with golden towers it stands
Sparkling in the sun
Bells tinkle down the hall
Laughing around the slim caramel ankles
Of a court dancer
Whose eyes are seven stars
The sweet scent of ambergris, marjoram, and myrrh
Floats through the castle
Singing of wind through Arabian trees
The sea through a whale's eyes
And the scent of sweet pine
In the Great Hall, a mountain of macaroons towers above us
Tempting us with lemon-gingerbread, chocolate passion, and salted-butter caramel dreams
Night falls
The Great Fireplace burns low, and beside it, the jesters are nodding
Mother takes my hand, her voice a lullaby
As she leads me up a thousand stairs
To my bedchamber
Where a hundred queens have slept before
I hold a castle in my hands
Cupped in a pool of water
Tall and white with golden towers it stands
Sparkling in the sun
Bells tinkle down the hall
Laughing around the slim caramel ankles
Of a court dancer
Whose eyes are seven stars
The sweet scent of ambergris, marjoram, and myrrh
Floats through the castle
Singing of wind through Arabian trees
The sea through a whale's eyes
And the scent of sweet pine
In the Great Hall, a mountain of macaroons towers above us
Tempting us with lemon-gingerbread, chocolate passion, and salted-butter caramel dreams
Night falls
The Great Fireplace burns low, and beside it, the jesters are nodding
Mother takes my hand, her voice a lullaby
As she leads me up a thousand stairs
To my bedchamber
Where a hundred queens have slept before
Beach Daydream
by Andrea Chang, 12
I fly on a golden carpet of sand rolling into the sea
Dreaming of cotton candy castles
And moats brimming with hot chocolate and marshmallows
Now, the sand is warm and soft beneath my feet, like white cotton candy
I stroll in a cloud of salted warm blue air
Dreaming of waves singing to me about the wonders of the sea
Of fish as clear as glass and whales as big as buildings
Here, I taste warm golden joy like honey on my tongue
I fly on a golden carpet of sand rolling into the sea
Dreaming of cotton candy castles
And moats brimming with hot chocolate and marshmallows
Now, the sand is warm and soft beneath my feet, like white cotton candy
I stroll in a cloud of salted warm blue air
Dreaming of waves singing to me about the wonders of the sea
Of fish as clear as glass and whales as big as buildings
Here, I taste warm golden joy like honey on my tongue
Garbage Goddess
by Andrea Chang, 12
She felt like Marie Antoinette
A fraud in fancy clothes
Her face graced a thousand magazines
Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan
Yet she had done nothing to deserve beauty
The camera snaps a thousand times a second
blinding her
immortalizing her
into a goddess
Five hours later
They belch her into the streets
She's just a girl now
she's only 17
in torn jeans and a t-shirt
Her makeup smeared on Noxema pads
At the bottom of a trash can
Her head felt as if she had been slammed
by a garbage truck
“Mai j'ai quatre boîtes de Prontalgine veuillez?”
(“May I have four boxes of Prontalgine please?”)
It had started with one
last week
When she got that garbage truck feeling
And now
It had stuck
She felt like Marie Antoinette
A fraud in fancy clothes
Her face graced a thousand magazines
Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan
Yet she had done nothing to deserve beauty
The camera snaps a thousand times a second
blinding her
immortalizing her
into a goddess
Five hours later
They belch her into the streets
She's just a girl now
she's only 17
in torn jeans and a t-shirt
Her makeup smeared on Noxema pads
At the bottom of a trash can
Her head felt as if she had been slammed
by a garbage truck
“Mai j'ai quatre boîtes de Prontalgine veuillez?”
(“May I have four boxes of Prontalgine please?”)
It had started with one
last week
When she got that garbage truck feeling
And now
It had stuck