Future

Future doesn't exist, as a friend or a foe,

it is a weighted dread that lives in the present, haunting us with a moan.

Future hums under its breath,

Ready or not, here I come.

But you plug your ears, pretending not to hear,

because you cannot bear the sound of Death.

Because Death and Future are cousins, who walk toward you

holding hands,

As you buckle and cry, waiting for Past to come again.

But Past never returns, and only Future awaits,

and his cousin death

is waiting for you at the gates.

My friend Kate and I are beginning to write a collaborative, mixed-genre book together. We both found healing in the Korean countryside, and wanted to use our experiences to help others heal or find a connection with nature.

For her, she was abandoned by the man she had immigrated to Korea to be with. For me, I was never close to my family and wanted to find a place to call home.

We plan on mixing her incredible photography with my poetry and vignettes about our respective challenges. For now, I've been staring at her photographs and listening for inspiration.

Working on a creative project with a friend is honestly just the boost I needed to get my creative spark back. Kate is so talented, and I'm so honored to be her friend.