A Walking Slumber

I am walking, I am searching. What I find or do not receive does not matter.

The warm presence that gathered my stray hairs into a ponytail while I’m concentrating on finishing my porridge, the hand that held a sugar doughnut peeping in through the windowsill - everything blends into the air, bound with a fragility that permeates through my being as I stroll past the playground. This, so thin it could possibly break. Kids, making merry in their untucked school uniforms, carelessly carefree.

I remember another day of visiting old ghosts, when I returned to the old church building for the first time in a long time, and when we played basketball together again, after so many years.

The two oil drops in my spoon are wobbling, they must be cold but I will keep my gaze.

This is really touch-and-go, it does not do justice but I have places to go and ticks to make on my list. All these letters I wrote beginning with Dearest, I am sending all my memories and moments tucked inside these fragments of paper, I am counting on someone to help me remember, help me never to forget too much. And someday we will sit together to remember, and never go away.

2:00 A.M., I wake to rain, apartments dark where other travelers sleep.

-li-young lee’s the winged seed