The South Col

The South Col

 

Cold and icy winds blowing from Nepal to Tibet threatened all living things on the sharp-edged ridge 

To the point of complete extinction of living organisms between Mt. Everest and Lhotse.

The winds reminded me of clashing metal over the snow and ice-covered rocks.

The winds hammered, bit and scratched my body and soul; a monster’s hammer, power, claw and teeth.

I climbed for more than 12 hours from the third camp to South Col, the fourth and final camp site that almost reached the Heavens 

Two veteran Sherpas pitched a couple of tents for my shelter and theirs, the mission nearly impossible.

But they did pitch the tents on the narrow ledges, ready to be blown out by the powerful gust of the wind.

They were peaceful, gentle and kind people, born and raised in the mountain village 6500 meters above sea level. I was impressed by their quietness and their perseverance under such harsh conditions.

They staked a piece of cloth as a flag outside the tent, the Buddhist Scriptures protecting our lives.

However, inside the tent, I could not take rest, and I could not eat or drink. My lips were swollen like a balloon.

My consciousness in thin air was dim, fading away. I tried to remember the date I left the family and the third camp. I tried to remember all the flags containing the Buddhist scriptures over the bridges and mountain paths.

My frozen blankets covered my frozen soul and body.

 No difference between a frozen fish and a frozen man.

No way of knowing of life and death in the South Col.

Mt. Everest means a long journey over the treacherous frozen mountain top against the winds of destruction.

I should be frozen first, and hopefully be awakened to life one second away from death, to the final destination, Everest.

 

----Yearn Hong Choi

Aurora Borealis

Aurora Borealis

 

My daughter visited Norway in order to see the Northern Lights,

or Aurora Borealis, as I had learned to call them.

Oh, aurora. I know aurora.

In high school,

I learned of the mysterious colored lights that stream across the night skies at higher altitude.

Then, I used aurora often in my poetry for mysterious lights.

Aurora sounds a poetic word. I love that word.

Now, my daughter called it Northern Lights.

The northern lights display colors depending on

how deeply solar winds penetrate the atmosphere and

whether they collide with oxygen or nitrogen molecules.

Blue auroras are displayed 

when particles collide with nitrogen molecules low in the atmosphere.

Green auroras are when oxygen molecules are struck up to 350 miles

above the Earth’s surface.

Red auroras are when particles collide with oxygen molecules

more than 150 miles above Earth.

Science has made the mysterious light no longer mysterious,

but I still prefer the myth of 

the Labrador native people’s torches lighting a pathway to heaven for fallen warriors.

 

---Yearn Hong Choi

Ji Hae Park, The Violinist

Ji Hae Park,  The Violinist

 

A Korean girl born in Germany, 

raised by a violinist, her mother

Praying ceaselessly to Father in Heaven

For a dream for her little girl

One day to become a good violinist

 

Fighting the loneliness and growing pain

At the end, one fateful day,

She became the top violinist in the world.

Accepting the gift of Heaven graciously

And yet,

She asked guidance for more maturity

Acceptable to His sight.

 

Her testimony in Korean touched the heart of a poet

Among many in the large sanctuary of the Korean Central Presbyterian Church

So fitting it was

Her word, each word, from her heart

Ascended to become a bright star in the sky of the Spring night

 

The music from her violin

From Vivaldi to Handel,

From Amazing Grace to her words

The mysteriously beautiful flowers in the garden of blossoms adorned 

 

----Yearn Hong Choi