Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Duane Vorhees writes

The Forest
   --after Yun Dongju

The clock tick tock beats in my chest
my troubled mind is called by forest.

The dark millennium-tarnished forest
hugs my exhausted frame as predestined.

From the top begins the forest's darkness
a black wave presses down my young chest

and leaves sough in evening breeze
swahh -- I also shiver afraid.

Far-off frogs croaking over early summer
My bygone village feels farther off. 

Only those stars peering through the trees
can lead me to some new day's promise.

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