by Sarang Lee


We stumbled, the first time, into her ring

With empty hands and an unscored song.

And nothing to give but the stars in our eyes

And a name once lost in sorrow found 

To fall in the crooked shape of her sigh,

To cradle soft in the nooks of our home


With naught but stars to guide us home.

She traced a score as bells do ring,

Tucked between the smile and sigh

That trips along a homeward song.

And in return for a path now found

She stole the starlight from our eyes.


The second time, we woke to eyes, 

Now filled with light that called us home,

Gazing on a dream yet found

In crescent moon’s crescented ring,

To hear the hushed and star-scored song

To memorize its starlit sigh.


And so, we two, unravelled that sigh

And spun it a dance before her eyes — 

pas-de-deux to sorrow’s song,

Scored from the warmth of hearth and home

Until, like life, her laugh did ring

The fractured break of sunrise found.


The third and final time was found

Knotted and tangled between a sigh

And a name that lost its ring

In the quiet of her eyes.

To bring the final echo home

To sing the dying hollow’s song


With clumsy hands we spun the song

That we as children lost had found

In search for a place they might call home,

Where spirits rest and smile and sigh,

And to that song she closed her eyes

And breathed her final, starlit ring:


The quiet ring of a two-note song

To seek with eyes what once was found

And kiss the sigh that brings us home.

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