I found you in a closet curled and mopping up the dust
Now I've hung you to my bedroom wall and framed you up in glass
To reminisce my summer youth Peaks, valleys, gushing streams
And promise of adventure's future Under snow and leafy green
Although somedays I cannot see Beyond the sunset of tomorrow
For now I doze beneath your frame And mountain dreams I borrow
This was written for a prompt by dVerse Poet’s Pub (link below) that I stumbled across today. The prompt was as follows: “So – here’s what I’m asking you to do today. Walk around your house and look at all the things hanging there: on walls, in closets, on your refrigerator door, etc. Pick something that “speaks to you” and use that as the basis for today’s poem.” This was fun! I look forward to more prompts 🙂
The rain came down on Seoul. My soul it bathed and seduced. For a sole wanderer far from home, Seoul filled my sole soul with youth.
It’s raining today and I don’t want it to be. It’s a cold, dreary January rain and I want nothing more than for it to be snowing. I am deeply craving the quiet that comes with powdery snow, and the even deeper cold that comes with that snow. I am not quite sure why. I have always identified myself as a “summer person.” Despite the fact that I want it to be snowing, the current weather reminded me of this brief poem that I wrote some time ago while reminiscing about living in Korea. I lived there ten years ago.
Summer came early that year in Korea, bringing heat and heaviness to the air. The trademarks of summer that I was used to–blue skies, clear sunshine–were not there. Even on cloudless days, the sun was obscured by haze. It rained a lot in July, and even when the clouds left the sky, the sun was but a blurred glow, having the same effect as viewing a light through a frosted window. In those days I welcomed the rain. For a few years after I returned from Korea, hot and rainy summer days often flooded my mind with memories of my time overseas. All weather talk aside, I loved spending time in Seoul and would go back again in a heartbeat.
Although as I am writing this, it is not hot and humid, and is in fact January, and on top of that I want nothing more than two feet of snow, I still could not resist posting a blurb about summer rain in Seoul.
I dreamt of a ghost beyond my window, Standing at the edge of my yard, Translucent below the marble moon.
She stood erect beneath the formidable night sky. With an upward tilt of her head, hair grazing her waist, She stared the bald moon back with her vehement gaze.
When I opened my own eyes, I was under the sky. Color in my cheeks and blood in my veins, Dewy-grass feet firmly in the dirt.
And so I walked inside to dream of a blank sky. Not unlike the blackboards the morning of Sunday school: Washed clean, ready and inviting.
For so many weeks, months, I felt haunted. Everywhere I went, every experience, was a reminder of what had happened. That I was not who I used to be and I was not who I wanted to be. That I had made mistakes and simply did not measure up. I was empty.
I don’t know exactly when it happened or how it happened, but I felt life breathed back into me, or maybe I breathed it into myself. Perhaps it was simply that enough time had passed. (And perhaps I had just written enough poems).
It is funny how simple things can represent complete opposites depending on the experiences occupying our headspace. The moon, for example, represented something that I felt saw right through me, something that followed me no matter where I went. It was watching me and I could not escape it. Now I am again able to look at it with a sense of wonder.