My words in writing will sit with you, and
They will not judge.  

They listen when no one else listens.
They will hear what you wanted them to say.

Then speak them to your heart.

Her aching abdomen thumps with desire.
A universe resides within, waiting
For stars and planets to be born under a moon.

Ancestral entanglements wait for births
While weaving memory into a heavenly gauze.
It will catch the haunting inheritance of those

Before, present, and past.

The quiet ache of love
Beneath the bandage
Putrefies unless cleansed
That covered wound, which
Never healed from lack

I heard the whisper on the shore,
Walking along the hot, dry sand.
It burnt the soles of my bare feet.

The hot, humid breeze singed my ears.
Autumn, autumn is calling, it hummed.
We hear her chant from far away.

My friends in Australia called out to me,
It carried across the vast oceans and seas,
"We'll send her your way, friend, but

Only when we're good and done."

Seung-Woo, the fruit ripens;
Cherry, plum, gourds on vines.

I made the baskets we need.
They will last our lifetime.

Seung-Woo, I flowered;
You picked me among all.

Here in our little house
We will flourish and gather.

Seung-Woo, our fruit ripens.
Come the harvest season

I will give you a son.

I thought that I could fly
So I stepped off the edge
Falling, falling, falling,
Into his big, strong arms.

I didn't know, didn't look too close
To see, he was standing on a higher ledge.
Then we were falling, falling,
In love, which crashed in pain.

Did he mean to project his pain?
Or find someone to use for blame?
Did he think that he could share
And his pain would just stay there?

We were young, foolish, and both blind.
So, we flew on, clinging to each other,
You, ******* my sanity dry all the while
And I thought my love could heal you.

Here is a truth when flying through clouds:
The thing is that an addict will
Always let you down in time
No matter how hard they try not to.

If love were a seed...

I'd plant them all around my garden.
I’d gather them in the harvest
And package them up to give away.
I'd become an urban gorilla gardener
Filling ***** of dirt with many seeds
Then toss them grenade-style
Onto abandoned lots, at passersby, and
Into the hate-filled corners of our world.
I'd give packets of love to family and friends.

If love were a seed, I'd plant it in hearts.