By Maoming Tu
In autumn, the Prisoner of War Camp
is dry and quite cold, and its surroundings,
without any plants, are dusty. When the
autumn wind blows, it scatters dust onto
prisoners' faces, making it difficult for us
to open our eyes. All we learned in our
home country is struggling—the only way
we can return to homes. Someone wanted
to escape, escape from the Communist Party
prisoners of war camp to the Nationalist
prisoners of war camp. At night,
we used his quilt with cotton wadding
to cover his face until he was without
any breath. We left the letter on the
lifeless quilt. “American soldiers bullied me.”
Only struggling can bring us to our homes.
Free to choose where we can return from,
mainland China or Taiwan, but how can
you allow those who do not know what
freedom means to be free to choose
their own desire? The deep soil in the
Prisoner of War Camp buried those who
died in the struggle, and the last gust
of autumn wind blew, ushering in an
even colder winter. During the latter
part of the Korean War, so many
Americans, Chinese, and Koreans
who fought for our freedom died.
I apologise to them.
Maoming Tu is a university student.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 