I send you my heart in this writing. Do not
stab it with a letter opener, please. Instead,
tell me if you keep your culture of separation;
a wall demolished years ago seems to be built
slowly between you and me.
My cursive words are closer to each other
than we are. You are there where history unfolds
and I am here where I can barely make my own.
I have engraved your address in my mind,
Do you sing the one that continues to be mine?
Is there a point...
When does distance become the enemy?
When I continue to send you letters
with stamps I envy because they
get to know you better?
The detestable ocean that separates us still sleeps
at night with calmness and no need of your voice. I,
cannot sleep; I stare at the roof wondering
if you do the same.
Do feelings run out like the ink of a pen?
If this does not continue to have writings, it will be forgotten,
like the letters that are never read.
Do you even read the words I place of paper?
Are they opened and framed like yours are,
or are they kept in a dusty box?
Folding these letters like I wish my clothing were;
in a suitcase as I have no desire to remain here.
About the Creator
Grace Lee
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