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

True

A golden sunlight slid through window sill.

A door creaked open into the hall way.

White light shines upon the kitchen

and over the huddled houses, crows flew in flock.

A hot water streamed from faucet,

filling the room with steam.

And I blinked.

Then rushed in the memories and emotions

of all the possibilities of the past, present, and future.

Hold it together — and I knew

every awaking moment counted

engraved into the memory

and to know the truth from the falsity.

3.20.2026

Damage

What does it take to walk the line

between inflaming into fiery rage

and sinking into bottomless abyss

when I am faced with injustice?

What does it take to “love thy neighbor”

if the mob is gobbling up everything in its way

taking the innocence, the peace, and the fairness with it

and no one’s there to witness your martyrdom?

What does it take to heal after the unfairness?

Distraction, destruction, or depression

does not appear to be the path forward.

How does one continue to move from it?

The answer, one that I can find for now,

is to move on. Continue with the path you’ve been on.

Make sure you reach your goal.

The tedious chatter will fall away

and the recognition will naturally follow.

And remember: watch what comes out of your heart. Not for others, but for your own sake.

3.12.2026

Glimmering

Warm and bright, white light filled the universe

As much as my eyes could embrace the world,

each molecule bursted into golden kaleidoscope of the sun

you were eternally smiling, filled with innocent joy and love

with your eyes, imploring to join you in your song.

Levitating, swooning and swirling in smooth and sweet melody,

we walked the path ever so bright and fearless.

3.9.2026

Comparison

Thought I was being smart

preparing for the unknown,

becoming better than yesterday,

well, becoming better *at being better than others* than yesterday.

Instead, holding onto its sharp edge

I wondered why this matters in the first place.

As I sat in the dark,

I thought of the meal I had shared on a Thursday evening.

It was just any other day.

It lasted only an hour or two,

but I vividly remember I was there.

And the words I have heard,

the stories that were told,

and the ideas that were exchanged

are not something I want to dismiss

as just a moment of reverie.

It mattered.

It has shown me something that mattered.

I choose to believe the reason lies in there,

to keep on holding on.

And to believe it will work out in the end.

2.28.2026