Jonathan Wolfman's Blog
FEBRUARY 13, 2013 7:45AM

Losing Her After Finding Her After the Massacre

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I am sixty-two my son is twenty-three.

Ying was our student our friend twenty-five on 4 June 1989.

Tian-an-men three thousand dead on the square.

Twenty-six when we bribed her way out of there, when

Tamar and I bribed her way out of there.

She came here, studied, then disappeared.


Our son born six months on.



There have been days, days,
I've told him consequential,
inconsequence meaningful
more than more than once.
And I ask him about her,
Ying, the one
the China one who's
lost, whom I found and freed then
My son is kind, tolerant
holding me in his affectionate eye
Of the mornings
I've said the same
loss the same loss
of a new morning,
"I lost her after finding her in that bloody rubble."
"I let her become lost."
"Dad. You got her out."
"And lost. Let her be lost."
sequoia of a young man
 is this son.
My life's tripwires
come without herald
no stepping back
across the lines.
I find myself saying again finding having found
scores of far-off friends
close friends, early and late,
whom I'd let disappear ages since.
Still Ying's unfound,
remains unfound,
she's the one,
one unfound,
one we spirited from Peking
from the Massacre,
Lost again she remains unfound.
Lost and I am to blame.
Was it this morning?

Exuberance in finding my found friend
I am imagining or not imagining
having found her not found her
among the many lost
I have found?
Telling my son of her
again again
about her again not twice
this morning
three times
In half an hour
Without, by noon,
recall of having said it
He's not
doubting me.
I ask him have I done
all I could.
After she left us in Vermont
years lost years my
thousand inquiries
London Cardiff
a way
be a way
Thunder Bay
New York
 Could have done more.
Have I asked him this
this morning?
He smiles.
He pats my head.
I imagine him
He says, "Dad.
You will find her."
He pats my head.
He winks.
He rubs my head. He musses my hair.
"Make Yourself Crazy with This, Dad?
The Happiest Day of the Week in the Home is Jello Day."
tiananmen square massacre4 The Tiananmen Square Massacre In Pictures
4 June, 1989, Tian-an-men (Heavenly Peace) Square, Peking
tiananmen square massacre10 The Tiananmen Square Massacre In Pictures

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Jon,let me embrace you to ease your pain.The horror you experienced during that time and even now because of the loss of your friend is like an open wound.You are a gentle person and I hope that one day you will find your friend.Meanwhile,there is no reason for you to blame yourself for having lost her.It is mainly her path of life that took her away from you.
You have set her free,haven't you?
Peace be with you,Jonathan,you with your strong spirit which in all its strength may be allowed to have tender moments.
I deeply care for you,Jon,and I am sending you my supportive thoughts.
Thank you for your extra ordinary poem.
Whoa. This took my breath away.
Good to have a good son to lift some of the pain. ~r
Joan and he'll visit me once he puts me in the Home!
This really touches me, Jon. Your sentiments about friendship are astounding. I'm flabberghasted! Simply flabberghasted. Thank you, friend. :)
Thanks for sharing this great piece on life. R.
I hope she ran away to a new life. That she took the gift and made the most of it. Of course, I also hope you hear from her. This is beautiful.
Oh, Jon. Wow. Love to you and Tamar and YOUR SON.
I had no idea your heart ached so much for Ying. Your patient son understands. So do I. There are a couple of people I would give a lot to hear from again. Have you tried Facebook?

Jon...blessings to you in the Year of The Snake, when things are found again....
L it's the sole reason i joined fb :)
emily let it be thank you