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Am I the shown
or the within

Weathered by time
the distinction between wound and essence erodes

To the hands that hold the stone 
To the eyes that seek the stone
To the arms that hurl the stone  

When did I first come to own myself  

My earliest memory is the shuddering silhouettes
a figure in white, a slap on my cheek 

For those first seconds 
they shook me  

unaware they too would waver 

A stone cast
Our path unfolds the airfield  
The threshold I stand at
where the beginning dissolves into the end

A gaze above the trail 

Everything that has passed is now a companion

The ground burns beneath me 
as though I’ve just lifted off 




                                                                                                            




Seok-young Kim
The Stone We Hold

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