Snow falling white birch forest After wandering the world, I now watch the snow falling on a birch forest in Poland. Every soul that leaves its home will long for the land it once dwelled in, the lingering scent of wildflowers left behind, the laughter of a beloved voice. I only miss the sunshine of Jeju. There is no gift more precious than sunlight. The autumn sun in Jeju is dazzlingly beautiful. You will never know how deeply I love the sunshine. Standing beneath the gray sky, watching the snow fall in a Polish birch forest, in this divine and beautiful woodland, I long for the warmth of the sun. Snowflakes fall endlessly, piling on the snow-covered birch trees, as longing quietly settles in my heart. Distance Between You and Me Each word, each phrase, like the wind, it sways. When we hear but don't retain, connections start to wane. With a quiet heart, sincere and wide, we look, we listen, side by side. Emotions flow, a hidden stream, revealing truths, a whispered dream. Listening is magic, soft yet strong, it soothes, it heals, it rights the wrong. It melts the ice, it breaks the chain, and opens hearts to feel again. At work, at home, in love, in ties, trust is built where empathy lies. To truly hear, to understand, creates a bond, a helping hand. Like forests need the sun and rain, so do hearts through joy and pain. Nodding gently, eyes that see, reflecting words so truthfully. Not just our voices, loud and free, but others' stories, their decree. Only then, both strong and wise, can we unite and harmonize. Together swaying, firm yet free, a bamboo grove in unity. The Day I Turned Away from the Heron She gazed at glass in the morning light. What did she see in that silver space? A lonely ghost in her own embrace. She longed to be like the crane so bright, with feathers pure as drifting white. Yet in the stream where shadows play, her form was cast in quiet gray. Who would cherish one unseen? One who scorns where they have been can never know a world serene. The crane looked on with patient eyes, as still as time, beneath the skies. The heron stood where waters gleam, a fading shape within a dream. I turned away from the heron, left nothing there, just silence hanging in the air.
Poet Dr. Kang, Byeong-Cheol is a Korean author and poet, born in Jeju City, South Korea, in 1964. He began writing in 1993, publishing his first short story, “Song of Shuba,” at the age of twenty-nine. He released a collection of short stories in 2005 and has since won eight literature awards and published more than twelve books. From 2009 to 2014, he served as a member of The Writers in Prison Committee (WiPC) of PEN International. Additionally, he worked as an editorial writer for JeminIlbo, a newspaper in Jeju City, Korea. He holds a PhD in Political Science and currently serves as the Vice President of The Korean Institute for Peace and Cooperation and vice president of Jeju PEN. Moreover, he holds the position of founding President of the Korean Association of World Literature.
