come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
고고하게 당신은 불타고 있었던걸까.
당신의 욕망은 옆에서 묵묵히 지켜보고 있었다.
한 사람, 한 사람, 불 태우고 떠나가는 모습을 보며
여유롭게 웃고 있는 당신의 생각이 궁금했다.
스쳐가듯 그대의 손가락이 가리킨 곳에는
어두운 장막이 모든 것을 감싼 공간이 있었다.
발더둥을 쳐도, 미친듯이 소리를 질러도,
아무것도 들리지도, 보이지 않는 그 공간 속에
고고하게 불타고 있는 당신의 눈빛을
나는 어렴풋이 기억하고 있다.
5.11.2026
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
오랜만에 언덕을 올라 갔을 때
바람이 불었다.
익숙하면서도 새로운 바람이
내 손끝에서 팔과 어깨를 스쳐 갔을 때
수년 전의 사람이 떠올려졌다.
놓을 저녁과 부드럽게 어울리던 그 미소가
서서히 내 가슴 속에 물들어 갈 때
차갑게 응어리진 무언가가 녹아들 때
고개들어 태양을 마주 보며 말하였다.
고맙다고.
지켜봐 달라고.
4.18.2026
To have the strength and resilience
to face the eternal familiarity with a new angle
to ignite with warmth and joy,
and to stay with each thought prudently and diligently.
To have the backbone strength to withstand setbacks
and a humble heart to appreciate the granular gifts.
To stare at the glorious yearning for greatness
and keep its warmth till the final moment.
To be honest even at the face of hurt, embarrassment, and ostracism.
I yearn for these as I lay my head to the ground
hoping to forgive my shortcomings,
to encourage for the days to come,
and to honor the memories of those who shared their souls with me.
3.21.2026
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
Walking past by a parking lot,
I found a fragment of sunlight
beaming silently from the side mirror of a car.
I wanted to give it to you
so that your day will shine so warmly,
ever so brightly, like the dream of yours.
2.27.2026
I wish for the warmth in the morning of winter.
The coolness of a breeze in the late summer afternoon,
and the song in our heart dancing in circles.
Playful talks, roaring laughs, and feeling smiles,
full of hope, we’d march forward.
We’d be ready for what’s to come.
2.23.2026
Sway a little, twist a whistle,
Groove in rhythm, beating a drum.
Bum-da-dum, and here I am.
Dum-da-dum, here we go.
Look into my eyes and see the sky,
glimpse of your soul in the darkest hour,
rising again with a golden sunlight
ever so bright with warmth of delight.
Hum-ho, let’s get going,
Hum-hum-ho, here we go!
2.15.2026
When you smiled,
I felt my breath became lighter.
Like the sunshine breaking through the morning chilly air,
Your smile, it brightened world.
I still carry it.
A small free library stood in front of a porch.
Among the jumble of books and drawing books,
I found an old copy of the northern folktale.
The brown pages of the book seemingly glowed
under the sunlight as the sun dipped into the horizon.
In return, I left a book from my own collection
one I had brought from the New England.
In this tiny house of books,
worlds and stories are shared.
2.12.2026
Ralph with Coffee 
You must be logged in to post a comment.