During a Walk
Beneath feet the earth hums low
a song of ages long ago
the pulse of lives once lived,
the stories buried deep but vast.
The soil holds in its breath
whispers of ancient birth and silent death.
Each grain of dust, a tale to tell,
only if we hear it well.
The wind carries scents of battles fought,
of battles fought, of fires burned and lands forgotten.
A drop of rain from distant years,
of harvests grown through sweat and tears.
On this stone I put my hand against
feel the warmth of those unknown
the laughter, grief, and toil remain
woven in the grain.
Holding life and birth,
beneath is more than earth.
Come,
hear the past in the sigh.
By: Seonwoo Ahn
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