Pictures Paint A Thousand, But I Just Need One

Good to see

Good to see

My book

On your desk.

The book that I gifted you

The book that I gave you

My book

On your new desk

In your new home

In your new neighbourhood

Of your new life.

/

Good to see

Really…

So good to see

/

/

But, see, I’d be real happy

/

If you could say something

Say anything

To me.

/

Anything, baby.

/

/

Say anything to me…

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New Moon, moving

he’s moving

he’s moving

my baby’s moving with the new moon

the new moon

it’s a new moon

the moon moves my baby

away

away

my baby moves

by the same moon that moves me

we move

together,

separately

farther.

travel safe love

be light my dear

for the moon takes you

there,

there,

all places you go.

and if those places be

far, farther from me

so shall it be.

for it is the moon that leads

you

away

from me.

it is the moon that leads

us,

you and me.

cradling a stillborn

for how long can you cradle a stillborn in your arms

can you stare him to life

can you cry him to life

can you kiss him to life

breathe him to being

 

will you call out his name, if he has one

will you plead his departing soul, “Please stay

will you fight his stillness

will you insist

will you let go

will you release

will you open your arms

let the angels carry him

let your bosom be bare

let your heart tear

 

would you hold him dear still

would you hold him still dear

dear would you still hold him

dear would you hold him still

a recollection of a night dream whilst reading “Women Who Run With the Wolves”

night dream

 

he had left me,

i had gone searching

he came back

and led me back to my room

 

and we were caught

i wanted to save him

from going back

to that place that held him blind

 

but we were caught

and

separated

torn apart

 

i went back for him

i went back to him

 

but old nuns in black and white

they led me to a pond

it was a peaceful pond

a small pond

the stones were round

the stones were big

and dark, like black

smooth granite

 

with solemn looks

on their aged faces

but eyes understanding

they led me to peace

 

a pond of peace

a pond of quiet

they led me to…

on proving love

does the ability to wait endlessly, for days and weeks on end, with no word or contact, in any shape or form, whatsoever, from you, my dearly beloved, prove my love for you?

does the ability to wait silently, prove my love for you?

or does the ability to wait in soliloquy, prove my love for you?

does the ability to wait, in un-waiting, sans any expectation, prove my love for you?

and what about you, my dear?

would your ability to find time for me, your dearly beloved, despite the chaos in your life, prove your love for me?

would your ability to better balance work and love, prove your love for me?

would your ability to become more available, prove your love for me?

but, would you, do you even desire to?…to prove your love to me?

what my heart knows – “murmuration”

via Daily Prompt: Murmuration

~

Murmuration. Murmuration..

It’s been a few months,

a rather long duration…

I tried to ignore it.

But I knew that I heard it.

Soon after we started

The first murmur was detected

You were not in love,

My dear, were you not?

He is too young.

He is too rash.

He is too earnest.

These murmurs persisted.

It’s too good to be true,

Such fortune to befall you?

Impossible,

Don’t fall for it

It’s a scam,

Best run for it.

And these murmurs, they lasted

And lasted,

insisted.

I sat, and I listened

I sat, and I listened.

.

It’s been a few months,

quite a long duration…

He will come around,

He’ll come back.

…murmurations.

August 1st, sound of cicadas…

Here, in Korean summers, cicadas have a way of transporting you into another dimension; a world sustained by the vibrations of their humming; a world colored mute by the frequency of their voices; where the suffocating heat of summer stills to a comfortable warmth and you find yourself melting into one with the cicadian chorus.

I become the hum, I become sound, a vibration, the sound wave, mere energy. One and the same with their song. A member of their cicada world. A buzzing leaf, a trembling tree trunk, earth energizing.

And so it is, the power of the cicadas – to hush the cacophonous city sounds with its grand quilt of humming, and bring the true listener to awareness, albeit momentary. And one recalls, Nature – yes, we live(d) in; Human – yes, we all are; Life – yes, we live; and that is all. That we were and are mere human beings living life in Nature.

That is all.

First blog post

Hello!

I am an oatmeal raisin cookie who has been blessed with the opportunity to live life as a human being on this planet. For how long? Only the cookie gods know. So, I intend to make the most of my time here to the best of my cookie abilities. And to write as much and best I can about this wonderful human life I’m living.

This oatmeal raisin cookie has lived in the U.S., Canada, and Singapore, and currently resides back in her human hometown of Seoul, South Korea.

Cookie cheers 🙂