John Zheng
Ritual
When the Cultural Revolution spread like wildfire all over the country, my grandma died. The hospital transferred her body to the crematory right away. No visitation and funeral. Dad was the only one there to witness the transformation. In the red heat when everyone sang and danced for the longevity of Chairman Mao, Dad decided to keep the pure white porcelain urn in the crematory until he was to be dispatched to a remote military camp for brainwashing.
moonrise
a new mound
of memories
On an early autumn morning, Dad and I took a long-distance bus to grandma’s homeplace to bury the urn in the family graveyard. Two locals dug a hole, put a rock slab inside as a base, and then placed the urn on it. The burial was primitive, but grandma’s soul was finally at peace. I was ten that year, too young to know that her death was an escape from the Cultural Revolution, which was not cultural but anti-cultural.
cold night
an old handsewn quilt
keeps me warm
About the Author
John Zheng is the author of two collections of haibun and tanka prose: A Way of Looking (Silverfish Review Press) and Dreaminations (Madville 2026). His latest books are Still Motion, coauthored with the photographer Leo Touchet, and Conversations with Lenard D. Moore. He has received three Mississippi Arts Commission poetry fellowships.