In a secluded park, a man leaned heavily on his cane. He tottered to a bench amidst a canopy of trees. Lowering himself, he sat beside a woman wearing deep wrinkles and white hair.
“Is it safe?”
She looked toward the ground. He asked the same question every year.
“Not yet,” she answered.
For a while, they sat together and remembered. Headbands and peace signs, camaraderie and hope, turned to gunfire and tanks, stretchers and grief.
The Tankman sighed. “Wrongs can’t be made right until truth comes to light.”
He lifted himself off the bench and disappeared back into the shadows.
In remembrance of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre, over 180,000 people joined a candlelight vigil here in Hong Kong on June 4th. I could not attend but was there in spirit. This story is my remembrance.