진달래와 개나리라니
이민자의 상실감
Azaleas and forsythias?
Oh, come on… sigh.
Back home, when the forsythias bloomed,
I would think, Winter is finally gone.
My heart, weary from the cold days and their gray monotony,
would begin to flutter again
at the sight of yellow petals bursting in joy.
Even the lingering chill of early spring
felt almost endearing then.
And when the azaleas bloomed,
I would know, Spring is truly here.
Happily, I’d put on lighter clothes,
and each time the gentle spring breeze touched my skin,
my dulled senses stirred awake—
like animals roused from hibernation.
And I felt alive again.
But here in Maine
even as May comes,
when lilacs are expected to fade
and roses about to bloom—
azaleas and forsythias appear.
Flowers that once thrilled me
now bring me no joy.
Why do they not delight me?
Why, instead, do they make me bristle with anger?
It feels as if March and April
were stolen from me.
This place has its own seasons,
its own time.
And maybe—just maybe—
their time is more accurate than mine.
I try to accept it…
but sometimes a wave of emotion rises.
Even as I marvel at the sky and sea
spreading before me like a painting,
my heart still hasn’t adjusted to the seasons here.
It still lives in the rhythm of Korea’s seasons.
Perhaps what I feel
is longing.
Or perhaps
the quiet grief of an immigrant.
