The scent of the rain
puts me right back to the moment.
One of the Christopher Nolan’s movies
aptly captured the nostalgia.
In between rows of library shelves
the chosen one was from the Norwegian woods.
I remember how mundane and profound it was.
simple sun, simple air, a plain comment:
“in repetitiveness, a new universe can be glimpsed by shifting the angle of my perspective”
It seared into my heart.
These slices of memories
exploded within the compressed moment,
a fraction of a second
the scent of the rain passed me by.
4.28.2026
Dusk
Twilight before the storm moves me.
Turbulent waves of tree leaves portends
an impending force growling and swirling.
Listen carefully, so you may feel it too:
the grand orchestra, the somber parade, the ferocious redemption.
As I stroll down the street into the storm,
I let edges of myself imbue in its hue
as a brief remedial sojourn for my soul.
4.27.2026
J
Did we love?
I’d say we did.
When you brought me into your home
and gave me a bowl of dumpling soup
and a bottle of vinegar,
I found myself submerged
in the kaleidoscope of your world
and only after I had reemerged
I knew it was love.
in your absence — as the knowledge you were gone had begun to settle —
I discovered a cruel determination
was the only reason I bring myself to the world in the morning.
Inflamed in self-hatred,
I grinded my way forward, or
stupefying my eyes to escape.
Now I realize
I had not yet to thank you.
Thank you for bearing with me.
For your bare honesty and trust in me
had allowed me to know
I could be accepted, trusted, and loved.
I felt alive, perhaps for the first time.
For that, I am grateful to you.
4.24.2026
Norwegian
you were always veiled in mystic quietness.
The kind that invokes curiosity and attracts
nostalgically beautiful destructiveness.
the way your dark brown hair fell across your face
as the curtain ebbed by lazy summer wind
listening to the music through your earphones of your iPod
imprinted into my memory as if
I had stared up to the sun with my bare eyes
before I could flinch away.
who would have known
this memory would last
until this very moment.
4.23.2026
Y
홀로 서있는 너를 보았다.
떠나는 나를 보고 슬퍼하는 너를 향해
앞으로 달려갔다.
우리가 마주한지 많은 해가 지내갔다.
마지막으로 너를 마주했던 나는 어렸다.
아무것도 모른채, 오직 너만을 바랬다.
그 후로 목숨을 걸 수 밖에 없는 순간들이 많았다.
뒤돌아설 수도, 도망칠 수도 없는 순간들을
정신 없이 싸우고 살아남고 나니 깨달았다.
나는, 너를, 정말로, 진심으로 좋아했고,
이 세상에, 그만큼, 중요한것은, 사실은, 없다는걸.
죽음이 내 앞에 앉아 기다리고 있다 한들,
나는 떳떳하게 말할 수 있다는걸 깨달았다.
그 모든 순간들의 역경을 버티고
나에게 주어진 짤막한 순간에
나는 너에게 마지막의 웃음을 지으며 이렇게 말한다.
"야, 내가 너를 많이 좋아하는거, 알지?"
내 눈이 너의 눈을 바라 보았고
나는 너의 입술에 입을 맞췄다.
그 순간, 나는 꿈에서 깨어났다.
4.22.2026
Guardians
In the early evening in New York City,
I walked into a tin can subway train
from Washington Heights station infested with mice,
pulled out my MacBook, and start typing away my research paper.
My concentration was broken only
when three convivial middle aged Black joggers entered the same car.
In between giggles of two women, the Black man said —
“Whew, did not know this neighborhood that safe!”
And each set in a respective seats that formed a triangle around me.
Proud, dignified, exhuming adrenergic from a recent run,
they laughed and chatted like a clear-day sunlight.
Among them in my feigned naïveté and gravitas, I basked in their magnificence.
As the train rumbled through into the Downtown New York,
People started coming in — armored in Patagonia vests, Theory coats, and On sneakers.
As the chirping of young, flush, White professionals, lauding their inebriated blindness grew louder
the three gradually became mum, withering into three tree branches.
Soon, the quietly exited the car.
I left the roaring subway car after a couple stops.
Their story had smeared on my heart
And I knew I would remember them for a long time,
keeping their secret to myself.
4.21.2026










You must be logged in to post a comment.