The mist shrouded the mountain like a snake that is about to squeeze its prey

At this place, far away from human civilization, I found my nirvana—

fresh air, fresh view, and fresh climb

Trees stretched their fingers towards the azure sky while bees and flies

circled around their trunks, always searching for something,

maybe blossoms that never grew on the branches

I too, am searching for something...

Peace and serenity

Darting around in circles, the swallows performed gymnastics as they rushed upwards, plunged down in neat swoops, and then spiraled into the air

Grey-headed bullfinches sat unperturbedly on flowering bushes and fruit-laden trees

as rain lightly licked their feathers

A bird hopped on its feet and looked at me with curious, black eyes

I stood there, unmoving

A straw-thatched house perched on a grassy slope, its door ajar as if inviting me in From the west, a puff of wind lightly tingled the straw on the roof and dipped its fingers in the sluggish river below

Sheltered by lush plants and friendly animals, I even forgot that this was a tourist site—it was a comfortable home for me

However, my reverie was broken when my mother

and some crazy monkeys stepped in my way

“Smile!” my mother yelled to me as she snapped a picture

of me gaping at the mountain

“Oh mom, you broke the silence!” I complained

“We’re going down the mountain anyway,” she replied

As I descended, I took one last look at the startling Giotto-blue sky

and the swallows that dotted it

But before my we reached the bottom, several monkeys blocked the way

One monkey grabbed my leg and hugged it as if it were a precious piece of banana

Another monkey approached and reached for my floral scarf

I was aware that Mom was probably saving this memory inside her camera

As I detangled out of the monkeys’ reaches, I realized that

I was actually enjoying their presence—

that was until one jumped on my back and tried to rip my hair out

And I also realized that my water bottle in my backpack was gone

As I veered off into the craziness that represents my world,

I stole a moment to just breathe,

took in the magnificent view,

and found peace to take with me

But even with the flowers, trees, and other parts of nature

that I feverishly love so much,

from the safe haven of my backyard to the green spaces of the park,

I felt at peace on this mountain

I rested on the rocky slope overlooking the mountain,

able to gaze out much farther and stand much taller than I typically can

I enjoyed the rough climb upwards because at the apex

I could survey what looked like the whole world

On that mountain, I realized that what captured my heart about the climb is that once I reached my destination, I became part of Nature—

I was in the clouds,

the river flowing below,

the ghostly mist,

the twittering birds,

and the playful monkeys

Drawing ever closer to the

Crematory, my hands

Shook and quaked,

My stomach tightened,

My eyes watered, and

My mind—raced

With images of babies

Engulfed in those

Infernal flames, of

Innocence gripped in

The hands of evil.

My mother, beside me,

Was reticent, for once.

Her face was shrunken

And pained,

Wrecked with

Grief,

Disbelief,

And

Remembrance.

Suddenly, there were

Only a few steps

Before I reached

The pit of doom.

Three more steps.

Two more.

Alas, one more...

I thought of

My little garden.

The passion fruit flowers

Thrived heartily

With everything

In place.

Now, my

Passion fruit flowers

Shriveled up,

My family torn apart,

And my customs

And beliefs all deprived

Of

My bygone days spent

Poring over

Music scores,

Playing on the

Piano,

The giggling and chatting at

Marketplaces with

My friends,

The stately

Family dinners,

And my dream

To become a professional

Pianist

Were all swept

Away.

Inside of me, it was

As if the "merry stream"

That ran

Through was frozen

Or parched, never

Moving again.

Slowly, I forced

My mind to shut

Out the noise of

Our trampling,

The noise of people

Dying, of the

Fiery pit, of

My beating

Heart

And just

Feel

Nothingness,

As if to embrace

Death

Once and for all.

All too soon,

I felt, smelled,

Heard, and

Tasted

Nothingness.

Beyond the edge of the trees and silver morning mists,

the ground lay silently, and when in darkness,

bound to come,

the ground sleeps.

The air is soft and cool

beneath blankets and sheets of leaves and branches I could see

a bird's nest with small brown twigs, leaves, branches, and granite rocks.

I saw apple boughs laden with blossoms,

and a breeze sighed silently in the night air.

The moon is full and watching the land

with silvery, ivory light

like a big bright lantern.

When the sun rises,

the light shines all through the forest,

a new day begins.

I feel trapped in a painting, unable to wiggle

even a little.

It happened when I lost my identity two days ago

after never listening to myself and my own desires.

Always bending to others' persuasion

always soaking in everything like a sponge.

Then a stranger entered into my body.

My eyes has no fire, my face is colorless,

my hands remain motionless,

my heart swings to a stop,

and I am always looking

in that direction.

Call me mad if you wish, but life's events ebb in and ebb out,

never affecting me

trapped in that still

pose

and always wearing that expression of boredom

and vacancy.

I long to go to the outside world,

where Mother's homemade apricot pies await me.

Where there's the constant struggle of school, work, and relationships.

Where I can be drunk in the perfume of wisterias and lilies.

Where I can actually appreciate art from an outsider's perspective.

Where I can at least make faces and not stare dumbly into space,

waiting

for others to interpret my feelings.

Clank!

Now I am being shipped off to another place...

A laundry room perhaps?

Or a patio?

Or a bathroom?

Or a dentist's office?

Or another garage?

Or worse...a closet?

Either way, I am still

trapped.

Weaving through the darkness

Of the garden

Bumping against the toolshed

Certain memories

Knot odiously around the

Bare lining of my slippers

A doll by the kitchen sink

Hangs

By its thread

Choking a vase of sunflowers

As they feel the wall

Laboriously climbing

Breathing

Walking barefoot through the forest

Pine needles impale the soles of my feet

Stumbling across the field of grass

Where we used to read aloud from mud-stained notebooks

Watching the waves appear as the dancing hem of a white dress

I pour out sand and starfish from my shoes

We let the rain scar our faces

We let the lightning burn our souls

Sitting on the steps overlooking the running track

I use a stone to write to her

Walking in the subway tunnels

I watch the wall's paint peel off like scabs from an old wound

Moth-fed light blinks and closes

At night I lie down in bed

Writing in my notebook

Burning the pages with my tears

Running through the forest

the beach

the grass

the track

the subway tunnels

Finding the other me

across from the tracks

I watch a rabbit eat its last meal whole

The vines choke a line of trees to death

I sigh and close my eyes and dream till I am dole

Leaves tickle my feet as they rush into the air

A zephyr gently smooths down the trees’ hairs and braids them one by one

A fire of emerald green, egg yolk yellow, and scarlet red bursts into lovely flames

I gaze dreamily into space, thinking of nothing

Suddenly, a deer steps out into the glade

I snap back into reality and stare at it in awe

It instantly freezes into a marble statue and eyes me warily

The sound of a gunshot pierces the air

Quickly, the deer darts to the other side of the forest

I sigh—I have never stood face to face with a deer for more than two minutes

Feeling ever so rejuvenated, I stretch out my arms and embrace all that is nature

I take in a huge gulp of air and breathe out, listening to the humming of my body

The only predator that I have to fear is time

I have one precious hour that I can step out of my shell

and let burst the poetic and stubborn side of me

The only hour that I cease to be another person

Distantly, I hear the drumming of a woodpecker—keeping time.

So why do you cry?

And why do you drool?

You play with a fly.

And sometimes you’re blue.

Why are you shy?

Why talk like a fool?

Sometimes you say “Bye.”

And you say you rule.

Rule what? The sky?

Why do you act cool?

Put down that pie!

And stop crawling onto that stool!

Oh stop blinking your eye!

I won’t give you a tool!

Great, I have to buy

Some diapers and be your mule.

Ugh, I have to try

So you don’t fall into a pool

Or pucker your lip to cry

Yes, I am a fool.

Foolish to treat you as my

Prince. No, I don’t want your rule

The end of your reign draws nigh

So don’t act so cool.

It’s now my turn to say “Bye.”

I won’t miss your drool

And your castle’s waters I won’t ply

Cuz I’m goin’ away from your rule

Light floods into the room

A girl wearing a white dress

Waltzes in

She grabs a glass of tomato juice

And splatter!

Her dress bleeds

The stain grows

Until a puddle circles around her feet

She screams for her mother to come

She is dying

Her new dress is ruined

Despite how thoroughly

Her mother cleans her up

It is futile

A stain the size of a hand

Is emblazoned on her dress—permanently

“Nature’s first green is gold”

A gold that scatters about

And hides beneath the brown

Or writhes around trees’ crowns

Mist drapes tentatively around emaciated tree branches

Citadels all around me—

Standing guard, guarding the

Door of Death until that day sweeps in

Fallen logs sleep on the ground

While squirrels seek to disturb their rest

Golden seashells ornament the feet of Neptune

And with each gentle motion, four more kiss his soles

A hidden trail greets my eyes and I

Choose to leave this golden dream

To seek my own reality

The snow drifts down like angels

While people sleep in their cozy beds

Somewhere, a dog barks

Its howl is carried by

The angry wind

And then dies down

When the wind suffocates it

Angels continue to descend from the sky

And form mounds shaped like whipped cream

The black elms tower in the sky

With white frosting on their bare arms

In the distance,

Some cars moan about the stress

Of navigating in this “storm”

No,

It is much more tranquil and beautiful

Than a storm

It is greetings from winter