Gwisin at Seoraksan

An hour in autumn– alone yet not
I saw a stretch of centuries,
people, forms I’d been
that made me
what I am today– sad for what
fights to spite death but cannot win
pushing against a tide
of joy and pain—      Listen,

the last cicada singing in a twisted pine
chanting the past and future–
no single other to hear the song,
the union of two as far off
as the cat’s eye nebula slowly opening
mind giving birth
a neon rose glowing in a dark expanse–

Night in thunder coming down
a vision like a memory of all the flesh
and blood I seeded, mothered, nurtured
defended, murdered   in amorphous time–
I could not         turn away,
had to peer into the Gwisin
wraith in the face of the Chu Suk Moon

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