Thursday, June 17, 2010

black money in the water














































































a black gusher
oozing out, turning her waters to blood
in the name of greed-- wait no, of course not greed.
her life being suffocated, destroyed
her beaches
her shores
her tides and waves
infiltrated with black money
-- now debt
i wanted to cry
i did
my Granny wanted to cuss
she did:
"ocean appropriate language. damn, damn, damn."
what would her waters say?
her fish
her sea life
the two don't mix
the two don't dance
the two poison each other
or perhaps we poison the two-- our crime in mixing them
she cries as the fish float ashore
birds no longer fly
the colors turn
thick, dark coats
layers and layers
trails of invasion
marshes corrupted with substance not quite mud
grass wearing dark trousers
the waters stand, defenseless
her animals, helpless
and our hands, washed clean of the blood
though tainted with black
perhaps this is her cry
that gusher, shouting
her chance to speak
will someone listen this time?

Jacket Holder


Not realizing what I was doing, I complied and took hold of her little jacket. Before I knew it, I was holding several of "her jackets" and some of "his jackets."

Beads of sweat had formed on their little foreheads. Running up to me they handed me jacket upon jacket. Soon enough I had two arms full of jackets. I was the check point. The base. The jacket holder.

The thought didn't enter my mind until I, too, wanted to strip my jacket off and find someone to hold it while I had fun in Korea's [much too short but] beautiful spring weather.

Suddenly I stood there stunned. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It's official. I am not the kid. I am the adult. I've hit the point of no return. There, with my feet planted, the wind blowing my hair, and arms full of light winter coats I began to realize the reality of where I was on this time-line of life.

It brought me joy-- to see them running around, playing with free spirits. I couldn't help but think of my freedom as a child.

Everything in me wanted to set the jackets down and play, too. Perhaps I should have. But who would hold my jacket? Why did I have to be an adult?

I saw my mother. My dad. My Granny. My grandma. Old teachers. Even the big oak tree with long, sinking branches. Seeping into my soul, a feeling of honor settled over me. I now had the privilege of being the jacket holder.

Jacket Holder. Oh the weight of such a job. Who else could be trusted with her little jacket. Surely not a stranger. Surely not the dirty ground. Not even a fellow friend who too would be running around. And no big oak trees around.

With a smile, I took that role.

Spring air has come and given us freedom to have bare feet and run without the weight of winter coats. And with that, there must be a trusted Jacket Holder.

Though, I most certainly intend to find an oak with long, sinking branches suited for securing my jacket-- along with those little ones whom will be with me... giving us the freedom to play.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

"The nations will be your oyster."


She reached into the cabinet.

"Here," she directed. "These are for you. I want you to have them." Her delicate, Korean hands lifted up, presenting a string of pearls dangling and interwoven between her fingers.

Taking off the price tag before I could see, she affirmed me through a smile, "Oh dear, I know that your prayers are more powerful than money. And don't worry. Not expensive but good pearls."

She pointed for me to lower my head as to allow her to lock the pearls around my neck. I tried to turn down the offer but she had already made up her mind and defying that would only offend her.

I lowered into a bow and she gently draped the pearls around my neck, locking them, doting, "They look beautiful on you."

A loss of romance, my relationship with HIM had become tiresome. I missed being wooed and rather in this city always being busy. In her hands were HIS. In her words were HIS. He whispered, "My beloved. My pearl of great price."

And to think I had gone out in hopes to bless others and pray for people on the streets of Itaewon. Somehow I found myself among another woman who knew HIS love and she kindly shared it with me.

She thanked me and I thanked her. He knew I would never have bought myself a string of pearls. He gave them to me. What a lover.

It was only later that the Lord reminded me of a word He gave me a few years ago before coming to Korea: "The nations will be your oyster, making you into a pearl."

Lord, You know me. You pursue me. You woo and romance me. Even in the busyness. You draw me into your embrace.