Rocky Lagou

On the Brink of Memories

“Once we leave a place is it there[?]”

                                                - Myung Mi Kim

 

Rivers call to me

Indistinct babbling and whispering

That fills the empty mind

 

Upon the water floats a flower

Which trickles into your nostrils

Like your mother’s perfume – and wasted time


I get up from the luscious grass

And amble my way to the wooden

Cottage, lying my head on the threadbare pillow


Here, I’m at home.

Purple-spotted mushrooms wave to me

Rustling trees with droopy leaves, undulating


They’re signaling my arrival,

The gnomes huddle around my legs

And are quick to tug me left and right

 

They lead me to a Golden Path and on the other side

There’s a blurry figure

with aspects I’ve been acquainted with:

 

Tall posture and Golden hair,

So, I rush to this enigma

And in doing so am lifted by the breezes’ sighs

 

Going up,

Rising,

Ascending over clouds of silver linings -

 

I lift my head from the dusty pillow

And exit the dainty cottage

In sighing relief, I come to see

 

The rivers of evocation

Continue to call to me -

Without further hesitation,

 

I jump in.