Tag Archives: Poetry

“The Divine Shadow of Heaven”

Three years had flowed away before I sought Youngseol, the painter Seo Sang-Hwan in Busan, my old companion upon the road of beauty. Before, I found him in his gallery, surrounded by canvases breathing, by books stacked like seasons of … Continue reading →

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“Farewell”

A month— no longer than the turning of one page in the book of heaven— yet long enough for my soul to remember its first language. Tomorrow the wide-winged airplane will lift me once more over the Pacific, back to … Continue reading →

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“Can You Sing of Hope?”

– A Faith Epic Woven from the Story of Bishop Yong-Jae Jun Can you sing of hope? Not when fields shimmer with harvest, nor when every table is filled, but when winter strips the earth bare, when dust rises like … Continue reading →

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“Over the River”

— Korea Today, waiting for the election of June 3, 2026 After the sirens,after the flags,after the endless argumentsburning through blue-lit screens, there remainsa trembling countrystanding beside its own reflection. April remembers. May remembers. The streets remember footstepsrunning beneath tear … Continue reading →

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As Breathing on Cello

An Iranian celliststands before fire. Behind him,a power plant explodesinto the dark sky of Iran. Sirens tremble.Smoke ascends like wounded prayer. Yet his cello continues speaking. Not against the explosion,but through it. The bow moves slowlyacross the stringsas though sorrow … Continue reading →

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“The Meaning of the Lord’s Call”

When the sunset checks its final clock and people worn out by the heat flow out of the city like the receding tide, there—at the bend in the road— You blocked the wind and I heard a voice. “Lord… did … Continue reading →

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“In the Summer Forest”

Walking through the morning dew hanging on the tips of grass, brushing them aside with my toes as I go to greet the breaking dawn—this path always stirs my heart. When the mountain exhales its pale morning mist, the waking … Continue reading →

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May 18, 1980

May 18 arrivescarrying both fire and flowers. History opens its old woundson this day. A mountain exploded once—Mount St. Helenstearing open the American sky,ash falling like gray snowupon forests, rivers, and homes. The earth itselfcould no longer remain silent. And … Continue reading →

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“Road”

I do not speak for others.There is only this voice—returning, uncertain of itself,still learning its own measure. In sorrow, and in the brief mercy of joy,in the falling and the rising again,there is one road— not chosen once and forgotten,but … Continue reading →

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Losing Poem

Strange—yes, quietly strange—after the gentle praise,after the book has gone outlike a child sent into the world,finding its place among unknown hands,there is no fullness waiting for me—only a widening silence,a thinning of what I thought was mine. What once … Continue reading →

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