Jīn Sīyǎ

Jīn Sīyǎ Jun 9

I keep writing to you,
day in and day out,
in languages of wind -
questions with no address,
apologies unechoed.

Are you warm there?
Does the light stay gentle
on the face I still see
when I close my eyes?

Peace was never
what you knew best.
You were made of storms,
and wrecking silences.

So tell me,
if whispers cross that border:

Do you finally feel safe?
Or is it me stitching
meaning into absence?
If you're hurting, I would
trade every breath
to unknot the dark.

Still spinning stories,
not knowing, but begging the air:
one feather, my love.
Just one little sign to know:
you're loved, you're safe,
you're light at last.

Jīn Sīyǎ Jun 6

Kneeling at the door of your Wounds

To reach a child, you kneel-
not with your eyes alone,
with your spine and pride too,
till your shadow become a shelter.

She pushed me, fists like failed words,
all the anger in her eyes, a language
for all she couldn't give words to.
I bit back lectures, giving way to silence.

And I let it speak:
"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒".

Through it, echoed the words,
apologizing for an err not mine,
melting her anger like frost at dawn,
like a breath held too long, released.

That's when I knew,
this is how I loved you,
not by fixing, but standing guard,
at the door of your wounds.

But some storms only end
when the sky drowns itself.
Now I kneel alone, repeating my apology,
to the air, to the child in you,
to the silence that took you away.

May 26

Byeol Writing

What I Wish I’d Said

I don’t think I ever said
How much you meant to me.
My words were quiet, my actions small,
But my heart knew it all along.

Now that you’re gone, I hold on tight—
To the memories, the laughter, the light.
I wish I’d said it more back then,
My love for you, my dearest friend.

#love

Jīn Sīyǎ May 19

Despite

~Drained~
yet the salt rivers
carve deeper, still flowing.

~Blind~
yet the eyes search the dark,
groping for the gone.

~Numb~
yet the wound blooms fresh,
each hour a slow knife-turn.

~Fallen~
yet faking through the day,
the cycle grinding on without me.

~Nothing left~
yet the snarled threads
of future and fate choke me awake.

~Dead~
and still breathing.

May 3

Peter Gerstenmaier

Another you

Just like that, outta the blue
I realize that no matter what I do
There'll never ever be another you

And it hurts like hell...
Btw, how great is Chet Baker??

#blue #you

Jīn Sīyǎ May 3

Twined tight

To feel alive, I stepped out,
earnestly seeking a way to be-
closer to nature, closer to you,
yet each footfall weighed so heavy.

My eyes burned and welled up,
I could blame the sun, a little.
Blades of tiny grass pricked my skin-
a feeling I’d long forgotten.

Fountain grass swayed in gold haze,
the sun sinking low behind it.
But all that filled my mind, my ribs,
was your face, your nearness.

Memories struck clear as glass:
our fingers first twining tight,
a story the trees still whisper-
the wind bringing you back to me.

With each passing moment,
I wish to go back in time-
to feel your breath, to hold your hand,
to be near, just blissfully watching you.