Rainy Blue

Old songs are now flowing in this town

The day when tears began to meet the soil

Like a leaking glass

All the painful fights fought alone 

Although hard and I almost gave up

I saw a sunny day against this rainy blue that was tearing my world apart

 

 

Flowers grow through my tears that seep 

Even though I wish through time my valuable life

be spared  from pain or despair

The night I walked alone suddenly rain fell

My wet body made of glass 

dangling loosely against the cold wind

 

Rainy blue kept floating in and I’m being chased

by my undying dreams of the you who made the skies rain

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue, oh

 

If it weren’t for your love

and the only affection that surrounded me

My heart, the tears

where they fell and seeped

flowers bloom no way near those rainy blues

 

My troubled heart is walking through an abandoned telephone booth

I lifted my finger for your number

Then I only took a pause

Moments that pass, I hope to leave them all in the past

is what I wanted to say

But tonight is no way sunny

as the rain continued to bang my head

I couldn’t wake up from 

Oh, this rainy blue

 

My heart, the tears are welling up

Flowers don’t bloom anymore

all our beautiful memories are seeping through the soil

Even though I wish through time my valuable life

be spared  from pain or despair

The night I walked alone suddenly rain fell

My wet body made of glass 

dangling loosely against the cold wind

Rainy blue keep floating in and I’m being chased

by my undying dreams of the you who made the skies rain

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue,

It’s a rainy blue, oh It’s a rainy blue of the you who made the skies rain…

 

 

 

 

 

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How can our hearts be broken even though no one has left us?

The vase is broken and the water’s been spilled

The day is slowly disappearing like a fading dot

Tomorrow doesn’t seem to run fast

I hear the sound of the clock no more

schedules are postponed

plans have been moved; people don’t seem to exist

The pain doesn’t subside

Bills are piling up and emotions are still in awry

The vein of sorrow won’t stop grief and despair from breaking happy hormones

swimming in a tub of unconfrontable pain, I’m into this as a fool who can’t stop her heart from splattering 

‘Sorry’ won’t even fit anywhere I place it

Acknowledging ones pain doesn’t even count and in no way near a medicament

Looking at changes where change doesn’t happen

I’m being pushed to the side.

Migraines won’t even flee 

Ears that keep ringing while the stomach’s been unjustly upset 

If pain is an object, I wish to scratch it, peel it, throw it away and kill it—

But the more and more and more I plead for it to go away

I keep getting the same hopelessness

Being cornered and body slammed, would it stop?

When all I want is to grab your hand.

Handrailings aren’t even available for support 

I’m counting the times when I feel my body is not my body

spending shorter days and longer nights

rolling over the ocean, changing sunsets and missing out my heart so much.

Like this,

How can our hearts be broken even though no one has left us?

 

 

Evening Primrose

 

Image result for evening primrose at night

 

The streets opened at night 

diffused notable colors wrapped the slightly cold evening

walking alone turned everything into sepia

memories of the past that no longer tied me

My heart ached for you

My heart ached for the inevitable

My heart ached for the scent that was breaking apart the strongholds of my hands

My heart ached so much that I only saw sepia

The window that I normally didn’t open 

I opened it tonight without thinking

I asked if I were sad but words won’t come out now that the alley outside reminds me of a past memory

Memories I’ll soon forget because I lost you.

What is wrong?

Crying like someone who just lost her mind

Can we stop now?

Why can’t you think about happy thoughts?

Is it so hard to remember just happy memories?

When I bare myself 

When the night looks at me openly

I wonder why I can’t remember memories of happiness

When you are happy it’s easier to feel lonely

When you are down it’s hard to have any other light feelings

Like water, it wraps around you without leaving any room for others

Why is that?

When I have just learned that physical sensations don’t mean anything unless you build a story around it

Here I thought I could take full responsibility for everything

But I’m doing it all wrong, I’ve been told.

Doctor, it must be easy to be like you when you put it that way.

Looking at your calm expression as you write the prescriptions

I guess increasing the dosage makes it all better?

I guess I am just a patient, indeed.

When what you write determines the next path I’ll take

Evening primrose in this blue night

To accompany me in this solitude

The flower that only blooms in the dark 

Too bad they won’t have to see how beautiful you are when you put out your face out there

When your petals stretched out like arms that love the world even though you are all alone at night

Because they don’t know, your memories are erased by morning.

Because they don’t know.

When you hide your face behind the cold wind 

Dancing alone while the rest are dreaming straight till morning

You are there but none of them has followed you sway

traces of your tears when the mist poured you her blessings

Will all be dried up by morning

No one will see you close up

No one will see you bloom openly

Yet you love the world so passionately that while scattering your scent at night 

that while your petals brightly shine

Willingly you offer yourself

Even though the landscape don’t recognize you

Even though the morning won’t remember your scent or the tears that your petals cried.

 

 

Loneliness

Superstar

Star

Popular

I am.

Not a popular one but a star.

To whom?

“It depends.” As ambiguous as that.

Whether there are people or pets waiting for me somewhere or not is rather insignificant.

Because loneliness kicks in and blurs the surroundings.

The blurring doesn’t even mean blindness.

Quite the contrary, to me, it means clarity.

The clearness of the separation within and among the people around you, the loss of passionate connection and the feeling of sour boredom become absolute.

And yet that’s far from being lonely.

“Loneliness.”

I wonder what this is to others. Even more so to myself since people aren’t curious about my ‘’loneliness.’’

who cares.

What a strange feeling.

Just how weird people are…

I, too, am weird having these strange feelings.

It’s heavy

It’s engulfing

It’s nostalgic

It’s tragic

It’s weary

It’s sad

It’s tasteless

It’s pathetic

It’s sympathetic

It’s drastic

It’s empathetic

It’s painful

It’s endless

Always the worst kind.

A pin-like pain somewhere in my body that grows, weighs and metastasized but in a stealth mode.

a growing body with growing pains.

It is what it is. “Loneliness.” Just as it is lovely. It’s a crucifixion.

It’s a succession of all these words and emotions within words, words summoning deep intrusive feelings that run with borders. And sometimes, wild like a melting iron.

But the end does not really change the beginning nor does it stop the end.

Of course, there are also moments of happiness around it.

Perhaps, it’s missing some key points in a questionnaire or,

a riddle that takes long hours to guess

a friend who never notices

a family away for good even when they are right under your nose.

Yet, there still remains the question “What does it mean?”

With eyes gazing somewhere else.

And smiles kept to oneself.

Sighs that are plowed from deep within.

And bodies dread just like the beginning.

Jet black feelings of wanting to be that star that lives in your eyes and the air that spurts out of your divine lips even though, they spread like ammonia. Even though they burn like briquette. Even though they delight like a fragrant poison.

“Loneliness.”

I am neither too close nor too far from it.

Neither warm or cold from the gushing sound it makes behind my earlobes when dawn starts to tear me apart as I get off from work and right before I lay in my bed.

Now, it’s getting more comfortable. The unfamiliar becomes natural. How there’s no way to know what lies beyond as we only see what’s suitable.

For a moment, I was taken aback by such loneliness that would now require a cool presence. From the formless image to the now awkward being that is gradually taking form carrying the memories that were once locked away inside the core of an unwilted flower.

Presence.

The likes of a new day that peels off my unwanted skin after soaking wet from the moonlight’s overspilt charms.

a certain kind of presence with a certain kind of romance. 

Someone who’d be taller than his neck but shorter than the back of his palm. Someone gentler, someone who never lacks sincerity. Someone who is just like the Spring that readily sweeps off Winter to run a few tricks and make flowers blossom. Someone shrewd. Someone who looks beyond the window but sees through the little gestures and the actions that may resort to hatred when left unseen. Someone who does not spread words for free breakfast or for a tasty appetizer. Someone who doesn’t close tightly like a  rare music box. Someone who opens up stories about his painful childhood. Someone too authentic to be ignored. 

‘Damn romantic.’ 

The world is crazy. But at least he owns a heart that can recognize a ballad.

Perhaps such a formless being will acknowledge the pain that cuts walls… perhaps, this loneliness wouldn’t fall into deaf ears.

Perhaps, he can notice my struggles first as if a brilliant star in a dark-filled realm. Perhaps, he can watch me closely to notice the red signs that were left undelivered by the hands, eyes, and lips.

A star with her comfortable loneliness can be quite noticeable through her awkward gait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The spirit who stole from You

See how people made you their idol?
See how they have prepared for your shine?
See how they fantasized for your smile?
How the world move as you move and shake their ground?
See what an idol you have become.

I think I quite understood your guilt.
How as an idol you’d painfully cringe over every loose voices
How you have chosen to leave and not to live.
How that creature of darkness made you his marionette
To your death you never parted.

Your breath is in my breath
Your sigh is in my sigh
Your soul without a soul
Your god, you made him your Idol.

Your guilt shown in your shadow
As you walk around searching for lost tears
You wandered but missed out on the evil that stalked your feet
So everywhere you look you see your shine
The same shine that disillusioned the soul

That God has birthed in your body.

See how you saved yourself?
See how you freed yourself?
See how you left yourself?
How you have betrayed the spirit when you unchained yourself?

That was your guilt.

Now, you’ll continue walking the beaches of illusions, tirelessly.
Like a curse in the afterlife.
The mirror has been broken, you’ll see for yourself the truth
But never with the Spirit who touched your soul nor the Saints on Earth
But that to the One who crawled under your feet.

The One you could never defeat.

The Spirit of Idolatry,

The Demon of Depression.

Reflection: Growing flowers on a huge wall

do jong hwan

 

Yes. Whenever I face a difficult wall, it becomes too stifling for me. I would turn my back and just give up on even trying to cross it. Let alone overcome it. Because I fear of trying and then making a mistake. Because I fear that I see nothing but mistakes after even trying so hard to overcome such a wall. And because I fear there’s nothing waiting for me on the other side of the wall. It would have been a huge shock all my life. All these have already been decided in my mind. And my heart automatically accepts it like usual.

I guess even cowards have their reasons too. Be it an excuse or just a simple ‘I don’t know because I don’t want to know.’ What I mean is, be it stupidity, stubbornness or ignorance for as long as it serves me well at the moment, that would have been fine. I would just accept this as a better excuse. And I can glide through my life. Easily.

On the other hand, while going on an easy but uninteresting life I feel that I have missed out on the important things.  And because it took me so many years to realize this, it seems already too late to change or do something about it. 

 

If I really wanted to see a better future for me, I would have just tried to see my dreams to the end. How sad that even a dream, I don’t have one. 

 

So like a rebellious child, I kept whining and sulking silently about my life. Because then, I can just pretend that everything is fine. I can just go on without even looking back is how I torment myself.

 

Then, I can soak myself in regret for a hundred million times as if I mourn the times wasted in the past. Isn’t this what we do when someone dies? We mourn until we feel better. I feel something died inside of me and mourning feels like an eternity.

 

If I don’t do this I feel that I couldn’t hold my ground. I would just lose all my control and self-sabotage.

 

I’m not sure what I was waiting for and what will come out after waiting. Even this still is a blur to my eyesight.

 

I guess tearing up my eyes is the simplest way to let this all out. 

 

Not making a decision and making a decision both put me on a standstill. And I’ve been going through all this as in a hamster wheel.

 

That is why I feel that I live but at the same time, I feel I’m not living it at all. It’s crippling.

 

But this poem that was written by Do-Jong Hwan entitled “Flowers that bloom when shaken” reminded me to raise my chin up again because there aren’t any beautiful flowers that bloom without being shaken. This poem is keeping quite a good company to my sad and helpless self.

 

I’m not sure what season that I, like a flower, will bloom. Not that it matters much. But at least now I have something else to think about and something else to do.

 

 

I want to do whatever I can. And if doing whatever I can mean seeing things to the end, I’ll do it.

I want to know how this would turn out. I wouldn’t even be asking a lot as much as gaining more self-confidence in the end. So until my stem gets straightened out, I’ll keep trying. Now, I don’t just even think about crossing or breaking this huge wall, in fact, I want to grow beautiful flowers on it, too. ❤

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflection: Wildflower

Hi. How was your long vacation?

Well…lately I’ve been doing quite a lot of reflecting.

And it seems I was becoming quite adamant about it while doing my duties at home.

As a mother and as a teacher, I don’t see the difference between the two. At home, I discipline my children and I give an excuse that it’s all for them. That someday this will make them a better person who would contribute well to the betterment of the society.

At school, I discipline my students and give the same reasons why I had to do what I had to do.

This love and hate, hot and cold emotions are weighing too much inside me. And I was going on about it over and over and over again believing that this is the way for them to survive the harsh world. I guess I never really tried to differentiate my children and my students. I only look, only judge then, hope for the better.

 

 

What a load of crap I’ve been harboring myself. I think, if there was anything I mastered while doing this, it was feigning ignorance and indifference and nothing else.

 

Over the years, I feel terrible about myself. I realize how indifferent I have become to the people I care about. Because of this, motherhood and teaching become more of a burden rather than a fulfilling role.

I have strayed far and deep. It’s sickening!

 

I always ask myself if there was a poem I’d like what would it be and why?

 

I couldn’t think of one.

 

That was how pathetic and inferior I was. Then out of a habit, I would turn up and tell myself off, being a teacher doesn’t make me know all the answers. So not having one as a favorite or as a mantra doesn’t make me much less of a person.

 

Yes, I know. I’ve been feeding my cold, indifferent and arrogant self with loads of crap. So who am I to say that I am qualified and competent to take these roles both as a mother and as a teacher when I keep getting them all confused.

 

That’s why my children and my students can look at me with cold eyes with a forced smile. “What a hateful mother and a teacher, you are.” is probably what’s been going on inside their hearts and mind. As for me, I feel that there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change this.

And I keep sinking deeper and deeper into the mud. And I call myself a mother and a teacher in front of them.

How pathetic, hopeless and self-serving this space I created for myself!

 

What is the right way? What is the truth? And, what is the answer?

 

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

 

Please tell me, I want to know.

 

I’ve been looking but not seeing. I’ve been feeling but not understanding. I’ve been going through it but as a bystander. Running towards a cliff then falling over and over again still without finding anything.

 

It’s rather exhausting.

 

 

“I want to change it. I want to do something about it.” is what I hope to do.

 

So, this ignorant, self-absorbed and hopeless person that I am want to acknowledge the fact that I am lacking in so many ways. With this, I’ll work hard to be forgiven and to reassess myself as a competent and qualified candidate for these special roles.

 

 

I read a poem today by Na Tae Joo entitled “Wildflower.”

 

poem wildflower

 

So, I’ll leave myself with this poem I’m quite fascinated about.

 

I still don’t know the way, the truth, and the answer. After all, exams aren’t made for those who already know but for those who don’t.

 

Indeed, It’s a week-long vacation! 🙂 ❤