And when life is over,
we fall to seed
until the day we can live again.
‘But, when?’ cried the petal, ‘When?
And how can we set aside
the fear until then?’

My feeling these days is...

Somebody help,
I’m stranded in the US.
It’s been a year since I’ve been alone.
A year since I’ve even been able to think of traveling.
A year since I could begin to hear myself creatively think.
A year since my own life was placed on the shelf.
A year since I left Korea.

Like many these days,
I’ve regressed.
I’ve never been so afraid
To think of leaving again.
To think of finding my own stability.
To think of living alone.

But still I will do it.
When the time comes.

I don’t think I want anything,
Anything at all.
It is easier without.
But to live,
I will have to find a place where I do.

Oh for a way to rest.

Waking up late.
Drinking coffee like it will save my life.
Sleeping like the dead with no will left to stir.

It’s not quite right; before sleep is the only time will does rise, but then in shades already bound to the certainty I haven’t time or strength to pursue it.