First Impression

We fell into conversation like old friends.
The authenticity
The sincerity
reflected in his eyes
danced on the words
falling from his mouth.

1:38 AM 2005

Colors fly into the air
adding variety to the white diamond sky.
Foot on the gas
Head lights cutting the darkness
Eyes following familiar objects
lit by a waning moon
memories of years pass fill the car.
Colors fly into the air
adding variety to the white diamond sky.

Being Amazed

Be amazed. Be grateful. Be humbled by the Hand of Providence. Know, don't just believe, that I am never alone. Even in the most mundane of life's tasks there are angels sent to assist. It is in the mundane, the everyday, that I am to see God. It is in the small things. The little things that I dislike so much. If I am to live my life like a prayer then I have to see the Divine in everything. Getting a job, paying the bills, driving to work, driving home, in the bank, at the grocery store, buying shoes...times where I encounter the Divine because I am in contact with His creations. Other people like me who are just trying to live a life of peace and happiness. Who are having struggles and trying to pull through with their integrity intact. People who laugh, cry, become angry, fight impatience...trying to be at peace with their humaness.

To Love

Never having felt love
she invented a mismatched
likeness of the real thing.
Never having seen love
she smiled the smile of the
empty sort though it fooled many.
Never having known love
she dreamed up an aquaintance
rejoicing in his company though shivering.
Never having understood love of Creation
she created idols of gold
and cases of stone.
Never having been touched by love,
the force of It entering her life
shattered the gold statues,
ignited warm friendship,
infused the sun in her smile,
causing her to burn away
in the heat of Love's Creation.
God dancing in her heart.
Her dancing in the heart of God.
To Love.

~ 1999

James Saint James(benjamin)

You paint your eyes
the color of night
accentuating
the piercing
darkness already there.
An old soul
encased in
young skin
emanating
youthful energy.
You do not laugh
from your gut.
You hold to
cynicism
as a shield
from the pain
of disappointment
and death.
Yet I sense a yearning
there behind
the eyes
and the cynicism.
A desire to be seen.
A hope for peace.
A wanting for
someone to see
past the protective
facade
into the soul
of who you are
and see beauty.

Heart Healer

Are you the healer of my heart?
You are?
Well, I have been anxiously waiting
for you.
You see,
my heart was badly wounded
and I was afraid I'd never heal.
I thought I would carry this
distrust and uncertainty with me
until I grew old and cold under their weight.
I think I am ready to
give you a try.

So, what is it that you carry in that bag?
Is it honesty?
Ah, yes, I don't feel secure without it.
What's this, is it self-awareness?
Oh, good, you will know where you begin
and end not emeshing yourself
in my beginning and ending.
Can I see that?
Whoa, unbelievable, it's unconditional love
so you see my humaness and still you love.
I am impressed so far.

I am happy I have met you heart healer.
The wounds are slowly healing.
The skittishness is beginning to subside.
I am beginning to trust.
Little steps.
One foot after the other.
I am happy to have met you heart healer.

Waiting

This time between...
this adjusment period-
can be nerve wracking.
Waiting for everything.
Waiting for the next stage
of my life to begin
so I can feel productive.
Waiting for the phone call
for my next job
so I can pay the bills.
Waiting for the next man
to walk into my life
so I know that I won't always be alone.
Waiting for my mind to finally
grasp the idea that I am not in control
so I can be at peace.
Waiting for God to give
me the ability to perceive
why I am waiting.
This time between...
this adjusment period-
can be nerve wracking.

Job Search

Where's the money?
Get a job
Get a job
you gotta have a job
Get wound up
Get anxiety ridden
Get anxious
you gotta have a job
Keep looking
Keep calling
Keep waiting
you gotta have a job
Where's the money?
Get a job
Get a job
you gotta have a job
Don't get discouraged
Don't get angry
Don't get worried
you gotta have job
Well,
I don't got one
how 'bout dem apples?

Korea 2 America

Arriving in America was like being released from a protective bubble. Suddenly all of my senses were awakened. Everything rushed in. Thankful for the peace I found in Korea, I was not overwhelmed...not overcome. I settled into the feelings, allowing them to simply be. I did not question what they were. Where they came from. I saw people like I had not seen them before. I saw so many hues. I heard so many voices using different languages. I saw courtesy. I saw kindness. I saw fear. I saw uncertainty. I understood ,for the first time, the human experience. I was not judgmental. I was not harsh. I just saw. I felt genuine realness. People are innately kind. I saw kindness everywhere. I have seen ugly but the beauty far outweighs the ugly. I saw so many people like me. Wanting more. Reaching to be good. I saw for the first time the invisible connection between all people. We are souls have a spiritual experience.

Wisdom of Letting Go

To imprision what was meant
to free me
is an insult to the gifts
of Providence.
To try to hang on to what was meant
to pass through my fingers
is to belittle
the Purpose.
Some experiences in life
are only meant for growth.
You may love the experience
but someday it must end.
To prolong what is meant
for only a moment
risks the integrity
of that moment.
So,
you gather all of the gifts
Providence provided,
place them in your heart,
and move on to the next experience.

Ms. Janet Jung

She is the better half of me
She is the wise one of experience
She is laughter
She is tears
She is my sister
She is the better half of me
She is the me I may have been 6 years younger
She is love
She is spirit
She is soul
She is the better half of me

He Moves

He moves like lightening
He moves like sunlight
I see him in my heart dancing
Gentle gliding steps
Hard, hip twisting turns

He moves like lightening
He moves like sunlight
I feel him in my heart dancing
Warmth radiating from his touch
Sincerity pouring from his eyes

He moves like lightening
He moves like sunlight
I hear him in my heart singing
His voice deep and smooth
His voice a place I could rest my head

He moves like lightening
He moves like sunlight
I hear him in my heart singing
Comfort and peace surrounds me
a blanket I could wrap myself in forever

He moves like lightening
He moves like sunlight

I Got Blog Happy

I am trying to decide if I should put commentary with all of the poetry I just posted. I got excited and just couldn't stop posting. Now, my eyes are really tired. I will post more tomorrow.

To My Daughter

I hold your hand now
because someday you will not want me to.
I hug and kiss you now
because someday you will not be infront of me.
I tuck you into bed now
because someday
you will tuck others into bed.
I tell you I love you now
because I want you to know it
for all of your life.
You visit me in dreams
from which I awaken feeling your warmth and weight.
I tell you these things now
because you are not absent
but waiting to appear.
Someday you will come into my life
in the flesh
and will know that I have always loved you.


~Adalia

For Mom and the Boys

The morning of our good-bye
dawned in golden splendor.

Mountains covered in a thin
blanket of mist
that rose to meet
the dawning sky.
A God-given moment of beauty.
A picture
A photograph
of heaven.
The spirits of Korea's
bosom sang amongst the mountains,
their melodies caught in the mountains' mist
to be carried up into the endless sky.
They sang for their brother's
homecoming.
They sang for the aching hearts of
the mother,
the wife,
the sons.
"We will care for him,
holding him close to us
until you join him."
They sang in consolation.

The morning of our good-bye
dawned in golden splendor.


~Love-Adalia

Daehaung-ro

Sitting under soft lights
pop music playing behind the Cranberries
i am the lone occupier of a table for four
watching the city street below
people move with purpose
couples sitting
an awkward first date
a familiar sharing born of time
friends sitting
telling of their hearts
recounting the events of the day

a lone sitter
writing poetry
drinking hot lemon tea
a silent observer of all around her

~Jeong-Eui

Life Art

She makes life an art.
She lives it with color and sound.
Her walk is a dance.
Her smile is an unforgettable painting.
Her words are a lingering song.
Her spirit bares the scars of trials -
the joy of victories.
Her laughter a collection of a myriad tears.
Her presence a faint perfume long after her absence.
Her heart connections a tightly woven tapestry of colors.
She lovingly embraces her imperfections.
She is a complete woman.
She makes life an art.

~ Jeong-Eui

What It Means 2 Dance

Most of us stand on the shore of our dreams but don't jump into the ocean. We watch the foam collect on their waves then crash into the sand. Most of us who believe there is a God stand at the entrance of His garden but do not walk in. We content ourselves with hearing the nightingales, magpies, blue birds, humming birds call out their songs of rapture into the sweet scented air.

It seems as if tears fall continuously inside of me. A rain that pelts and drizzles but tears all the same. There is a reservoir that holds these tears which is emptied when I dance. Tears appear as sweat that rises into the ether or is washed away. I do not dance to be seen. I do not dance for recognition. I dance to release my burdens. I dance to release the captured tears.

Traditional Korean Drum and Dance

The beat
The rhythm
Cut through the cold morning
Drawn in natural attraction
Like metal to magnet
The drum
The colors
Captured the eyes
Caused limbs to move in time
Watching the lightness
of their feet moving
in syncronicity
with the drum
the rhythm
the movement of their brothers
Like dancing on air
Heads turning
Heads bobbing
White ribbon waving
Cutting through the air
The beat
The rhythm
Intensifying faster
Spinning
Turning
White flashing
Color bursting
Feet on air
~ Jeong-Eui 12/03

Giving Truth a Voice

Where to find the peace? "If you figure out howto fight this battle tell me"She said...I was silent. Silent for fear of the words crawling up the back of my throat. The words I wouldn't dare to speak for sometimes the truth is hard to give a voice to. The words fell out of my mouth. I could hold them back no longer."I know how. I am afraid to say it cause it has been the shadow in my mind. It is to serve others. It is to be God-centered."

We remember the days when we were young. The days when things seemed so much simpler. I was a servant without thinking about it. Nothing challenged the innocent naivety of youthful service. Being "unrestrained as the wind."

Now I ask her,"Are we being called to a new level of service? Where it has to be a concious effort? 'Cause to do what I know I gotta doI have to submit to God. I have to let go of what I have known to be true because the old cycles are killing my spirit."

I have become comfortable with the quiet "spirit killer". I know no other way. I am in unchartered territory. I have to submit to the Navigator. For long years I fooled myself. I thought I was in control. It saved me as a child. It protected me as a teen. It kept me focused as a young adult. No longer is home where my mother is. Home is where I am. I have stepped into adulthood. I must leave behind me the out dated survival tactics of the child hero. Where to find peace?

Summer Lover

Heavy air
thick with the
sounds
smells
heat of summer.

Heat runs along the curves of exposed skin
drawing out beads of sweat.
Skin breaths
free of winter clothing
sighing under the carress of the sun.
Charged atmosphere
awakens expectation
filled with excitement
eyes set forward
locked on inner peace.

Home memories
of falling asleep to the whirring of the fan,
singing insects in the grass,
thick silence caught up amongst the trees,
swimming in the lake-feeling water cooling hot skin,
watermelon on the back porch,
grandma braiding my hair.

Heavy air
thick with the
sounds
smells
heat of summer.

A Mother's Words Can Have Healing Powers

It is the acknowledgement that
many of us secretly,
desperately want
never to receive.

They are the words that those
who struggle as adults with childhood traumas
long to hear.

It is the confirmation that decisions
made by our childselves for protection
were heroic.

They are the words
I was blessed to hear
from the very person
many of us wait for in vain...
"Don't be so hard on yourself. Your childhood was much harder than mine.It was not God that let things happen to you. It was your parents that let things happen to you."
...said my mother.

Speak

Talk to me.
Tell me what I see in your eyes.
Your silence is deafening.
My mind is full of voices
all saying different things.
At one time
you having the courage to speak
would have validated my worth.
Now
I take that power
that burden
away from you.
Speak freely.
Talk to me.
Tell me what I hear in your voice.
Speak on behalf of our friendship.
Form the thoughts racing in your mind
into words so that you will see
you can trust me.
I will know I can trust you.

Silence

Not a word was spoken.
Not a sigh escaped her lips.
She stared into the sky.
She watched as the sun's rays
dance off the clouds.
She felt the wind on her exposed skin.

Not a word was spoken.
Not a sigh escaped her lips.
She felt him walking away.
Her back sensed the lengthening distance.
She remembered the darkening in his eyes.

Not a word was spoken.
Not a sigh escaped her lips.
Yet, her heart was breaking
as tears followed
the contours of her face.

Choking on Crumbs

He sent me a text
August 30-eth
"Thanks for congratulations.
Sorry we didn't say good-bye.
See you next time.^^"

I waited for that?
I poured out my heart.
Two weeks later
this is what I get?
I saw the show.
I saw him.
Even in disguise
we saw each other.
The catalyst of pain
unavoidable.

Do I erase it?
It started to become precious.
A drop of water in a dry desert.
I kept it.
Looked at it.
What to say?
"You did a good job as usual."

I looked at his text.
I read it.
Re-read it.
Fought with myself.
Erased it.

Lingering

She couldn't forget him
He was the lingering ache
that seemed to move through her joints
that was lodged in her heart
the ache that lingered
She knew she would forget him
This ache would slowly pass
the only reminder of him
a memory locked in her mind
to be opened
when it rains
when Marvin Gaye sings
when a smell reached her
This too will pass
like all other heartaches
the lingering ache
dulled
dissipated with time
the heart's lack of use
She would forget him

To Cry or Not to Cry

The words are afraid to come
They will mingle with tears
They will run down my face
I can wipe them away
I can let them dry,
becoming hard streaks
What to do with them?
The words
The tears
What to do with them?

Loss

She woke up feeling better. The tears from the night before dried on her cheeks. She washed them away after looking at herself in the mirror. Sometime in the night ,while she dreamed, she let go. She said a groggy "good morning" to her roommate as she left for work. "Have a good day" she called from behind the bathroom door. Her roomie still didn't know. She would tell her later.

She thought about the past. She thought about poetry. She thought about music and movies. She thought about him. She thought about him then thought about herself. She had to be at peace. He couldn't give that to her. She had no control over what he did or how he felt. Without talking with him, all her theories would be speculation. An attempt to comfort or to torture. She could only see things as they are. No made up stuff. She had to believe his words. She had to trust that he was being honest. If he doesn't follow through, than taking it personally would be her downfall. She stepped back. If his actions don't follow his words it would be a reflection of his character not her worth.She hoped. She always hoped. Hope can be a painful emotion. But she hoped that he would not be like the others.

She stares at the screen, re-reading her words, wanting them to sink in. Her alarm goes off. The morning is slipping by. She has to get ready for her appointment. Stretching, she closes out of her diary and shuts down the computer.

Memories of Rain (TwO)

Looking into the sky
It's grey clouds releasing their load
We told stories of our childhood
memories of rain.
His forgotten umbrella
My running in my bathing suit
His tears waiting for his mother
My father taking a rain shower as we laughed
His mother arriving with a vinyl umbrella
My playing in mud puddles
"This is the first time I have heard about your hometown, tell me more."
Something inside me sighed at his request.
No one had asked about where I came from
I sometimes forget that I had a life before Korea
While watching rain fall from the heavens
I recounted laying in tall grass watching clouds pass
Building forts
Adventurous romps in the woods
Our waterfall
Hide and seek in the corn
Hot days cooled by evening rains
I didn't speak of the angry house
The aloneness we each felt
Our only comfort each other
Looking into the sky
It's grey clouds releasing their load
We told stories of our childhood memories of rain.

Memories of Rain (oNe)

A warm spring day
made perfect by the falling rain.
It hits the ground
makes music on the roof,
dances on the metal gutters,
kisses the flowers
reminding me of home.

Sitting on the porch
feeling the soft breeze of countless drops
cooling the stifling heat.

Together we walked
beneath an umbrella
made for two
through the warm rain
around puddles
soaking the bottoms of our pants
to a cafe nestled away
from the rest of the world.
We ate icecream
while music played softly
the rain blending
in
through
the chords
the melody.
I write
He sits
reading on the porch
loving the rain
us writing
reading
eating
listening
sitting
talking
walking
on a
rainy
warm
spring day
in Seoul.

Who's Good For Who?

You're Good For Me...

He said
His words passed through my ears
Into my heart
Around my soul
Then hung in my mind

You're Good For Me...

He said
His words so profound
Said so simply
With no expectations
He sees what I don't

You're Good For Me...

He said
Like he knew
He'd known forever
Now I ask myself
Is he good for me?