long poem envisioned

This is a planned prose poem about my roots in China and the formative years in Aberdeen, which goes full circle from betrayal to redemption. JOURNEY TO THE WEST I. An Act of Betrayal A. The Village Nan-on B. The Village Bow-lung II. Journey in Yellow Water A. The Mosquito Net B. The Currency III. Train Station Shum-june A. Third Aunt B. The Train Ride III. Communist Boy A. School B. Kowloon IV. The Examination THE ABERDEEN SAGA “ONE FLEW OVER THE COOKOO’S NEST” REDEMPTION JOURNEY TO THE WEST I. An Act of Betrayal Dearest Grandma, seeing you as if you are here in the American cyberspace with me. You spent thirty-three years in the monastery of your Buddha heart, distinguishing true from false, and so you know I am for the moment sincere. As the lotus pond was full of goldfish, waterlilies, and lotus roots, and as the water was murky, and as the day was long in our Nan-on village. Grandmother, I caught dragonflies in the stillness of the village yard. I gathered snails from the banks of the village pond. The morning glories greeted me as I walked by the graveyard, as if promising those dear to us would live again. And you, Grandma, live now in my conscious, with the colors of blooming chrysanthemums, with the whisper of bee wisps, and with the feel of silk in hot summer. Grandma, you are there when I close my eyes. In the inner space of these decades, closure was smooth skin, and all the garden petals you rubbed abounded. You taught me to see the richness of the heart, not the patches on clothing. You taught me the reciprocity of the hen, as she give me eggs for broken corn. You taught me that heaven does not rain all day, so that it is better to stop when having spoken. Yet, I am to betray you, without my even understanding how.  

Koon Woon June 1, 2024

In Memory of Mariah Sutherland

My name is Koon Woon and I was Mariah’s neighbor on the second floor. Mariah and I shared the love of writing and literature. At first when I moved into the Alaska House, Mariah first reached out to me and I went to the West Seattle Senior Center with her and I started feeling comfortable enough there to lead a poetry study and appreciation group. After Mariah and I were familiar with each other, we walked quite often from the apartment building to C & P Coffee and her favorite spot is the garden in the back.

Mariah was a lively conversationalist. She was up on many topics and she enjoyed reading the New Yorker and the Atlantic Monthly. She as I mentioned before was good with the written word and so she occasionally helped me proofreading and copyediting books from my Goldfish Press, which published all genres of literature but as it turns out, we publish more poetry books than anything else.

Mariah was very discerning about the political situation and the social climate of the country. She not only reads books, she reads them well and able to draw together the many threads that weave the culture and politics of this country.

Mariah also had an eye for art. I had helped her hang some of her perfectly cut and assembled collages at the Cupcake Royale, where we frequently met for coffee. My memories of Mariah is that she was stimulating, a careful thinker and had a magnetic personality. She was a wonderful friend.

White Lotus Literary Society

The White Lotus Literary Society seeks to find writing that promotes literature, education, and world peace.