For someone
it can be a noise

Drum beats
tremble with space
metals split
the bunch of leather beats

A typhoon of disorder

Staying wrapped
in the middle of a striking hurricane
Feeling the sound
shouting to me

My heart beats
It absorbs those beats
It shakes my head
touching my spirit

This music long ago
came from shamans

When the music was
a human ceremony

Mysterious rhythms

What are those numbers
in the elastic organic rhythms?
What are those symbols
of the perception of the world?

Followed long roads
and formed through time
passing from people to people
with their own body rhythms

Their clouds
Their rains
Their thunders
Their earth

Transformed in the
orchestra of percussion

And the story of their nature
descends to me

I hear my ancestors
their messages

I meet them
and now I play

Their and our rhythms
of the Korean percussion

I come from bumpy roads,
The soft melody of Korean indie music playing on repeat in the car,
Droplets of water dripping down  the window matching the lazy beat of the songs
We hopelessly drove around this merry go round of a globe
My family and I moved so much to the point of me not knowing what the word "home" meant.
When people ask me where i'm from,
I hesitate and grow anxious. What if they tell me that I don't belong ? 7 years in Malaysia
And I still don't feel like i'm in the right place.
"I want to go home"
I say when i'm hanging out with my mates in school.
But truly,
I don't have a home.

I lived in Pyongyang,
Breathing to be wired to follow my father’s footsteps.
Taught all day the greatness of our homeland.
As a kid, I sunk into their teaching,
But now seen as propaganda through my grown eyes.
I dreamed of leading my own troupe
Into battle, for my great country, to stand with pride
As I was destined to protect it.


Out of grief and sadness
A cry stretched its ways to my ears.
The great leader fell
From swell to nothing well.
I was told we were to go on holiday
In Gyeong-Seong forced to stay.
Moving in and out of it to see the light of day.
No longer blinded from my homeland’s falsehood
Tricks and tactics meant for military
Used against it for my own tranquility.
Oh! The irony.


Now grown up, with a new dream.
I no longer see Joseon the way it used to seem,
I say my story as a North Korean defector in hope,
hope to see better lives for those who reside there.
In my oh so forsaken great homeland Joseon.

[Received] 
I see you 'active' on the internet. 
Don't you sleep? 
. 
[Sent]
I can't sleep. 
It's a cold night. 
The mountain wind sent 
a loneliness message to my heart.
I feel so all alone... 
.
[Received]
Please don't... 
You are not alone. 
Nobody is alone.
Even when you stood alone 
under the dark night sky,
hasn’t the sky 
at least stood with you? 
.
[Received]
And remember, 
there's always a love
that stands somewhere
and always waits for you 
in the distance sky... 
.
[Received]
Saranghaeyo...
Neomu saranghae...
.
[Me]
Typing a reply...
.
Kanya Puspokusumo
January 19, 2019

I often ask myself why I spend so much time learning another language
Why do I obsess and stress over something by my own will?
What do I have to gain, why do I want to teach and translate this foreign tongue?

Yet every night I force new words into my mind
And it makes me feel so calm and distracted
All my fears and concerns fade away as I take this information into my brain
I see nothing but beauty in every character I write so much so that I often write in the wrong alphabet
To me it's the most perfect and beautiful script
It's like riding a bike for the first time everytime I translate in my mind
The culture and language has found its way into my heart

I've fallen in love with the language like you do a person
Slowly, then all at once
Without understanding at first but slowly uncoiling the wonderful beauty before my eyes
I've found my passion and my saviour all at once
There is power in words which spawn from language
Every new term I learn makes me feel just that much stronger
Enough to feel invincible