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and, i fear, ephemeral… -- poetry by Louise Kim

your fingerprints are fading away.

it’s been a while since we were created,

perhaps essence preceding existence,

perhaps vice versa,

but one thing is for certain:

we were children of gods

and we will not last as long.


aging, us two.

this is a shell and it is mortal.

this is a shell and i picked it

up at the beach last week,

the white sand slipping in between

the wrinkles of my fingers.


we were priestesses

living by feeling, living

virginally, by which i mean

we would not let gods sully us,

we believed we could live

untouched by the gods.

won’t pass any judgment

on our youthful selves.


sometimes we would

sit under the shade of the

willow trees near the pond—

the pond near your aunt’s—

and wonder

why we were born,

why we were living.

what is being and

what is time.

do you remember?


and every autumnal equinox

it rained when we were together.

and we danced and sang,

momentarily renewed by

the rain

and all the fruit it bears.

the rain is eternal.

the rain never forgets.


your memories are fading away.


and i find myself sometimes,

sitting on our wooden chair,

looking out the window, muttering,

if only we were younger.

if only we were younger.



 

Louise Kim is a Korean American student at the Horace Mann School in The Bronx, NY. Their writing has been published in a number of publications, including Et Cetera Magazine, Girls Right the World, and The Star Collective Zine, and is forthcoming in Ricochet Review. Her work has been nationally recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. In their free time, Louise enjoys practicing archery, studying French, developing her spiritual practice, and reading and writing.

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