Rare Books & Special Collections, UBC Library
A paper crane crimped and folded
from pieces of tobacco paper
I remember Gung Gung
rolling and smoking his cigarettes
under the bedsheets
smelling of Tiger Balm, nicotine, and heartache
an ocean separating
Mama, Kau Fu, Poh Poh
our family torn apart from 1923 to 1954
a trauma passed on and on and on
echoing through three generations left parting
the meagre embrace of remittances and letters
feeds an unbearable emptiness
forced apart by a piece of paper
July first is our Humiliation Day
never forget the darkness cast by
the long shadow of The Chinese Exclusion Act
inscribed into law by an ocean of ink
spilling indiscriminately a stain to reckon
blotting out lives
papers clenching lives in a tight grip
registered as required
a makeshift life under surveillance
documenting our despair and sorrow
1918 was the beginning of our story here in Canada
Gung Gung paid a five-hundred-dollar head tax
to enter and endure
longing to become a Canadian
in his pocket filled with Player’s cigarettes
and the empty promises of Gold Mountain
he carried a Chinese Immigration identification card
showing he didn’t belong
rights denied….. subjugated
Gung Gung’s lungs are stained with the black tar of sorrow
only a final breath offers release
from the burden of living on Canadian soil
asphyxiated by an act of hatred
a paper crane crushed
Lillian Au is a broadcast journalist and writer. Her short stories are published in “Upon a Midnight Clear” and in the upcoming book, “Not the Same Road Out.” Her grandfather arrived in Vancouver from China in 1918. Her mother, uncle, and grandmother came later in 1954, seven years after the repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act. Her father was a paper son and operated a printing business on Pender Street in Chinatown.