Ulleungdo's Labyrinth
Down here, halabeoji had told her, on a
level almost with the water, she could
follow with her eyes the ceaseless,
swelling passage of Ulleungdo's depth.
They were miles wide, breathing back
and forth against the white sand, ushering
in cascades of retreating water. The sea
would now disappear into darkness along
with the tides, burying groups of coiled sola
kkeobjil and hyeonmuams beneath layers of
gritty sand, plastering strands of seaweed
knotted on the shores they could not leave.
And when darkness was to finally flow around
the beach like a tide coming from the bottom
of the sea, halabeoji stood ankle-deep in the
warm water, watching as his granddaughter
carried buckets of water back into the village.
The last lights in the neighborhood insist on
dimming, and a flurry of wind made the palms
talk, the silence so noticeable.
This poem was first published by Wax art and poetry.
By Amy Lee
Biography:
Amy Lee is a young writer with a passion for exploring complex themes through herpoetry and prose. Her works often focus on environmental issues and loss. Amy draws inspiration from her experiences growing up in several cities where she has witnessed firsthand the impact of climate change and urbanization on the natural world. Her writing has been recognized by publications such as Eunoia Review, and Uppagus, āraśi the reflector, etc.
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