I am the daughter of the Parks.

I am the true sister of the mugunghwa, the hibiscus syriacus,

I have always been an underdog,

boldly standing in the shadows of the giant next door.

Born among caucasians, never really fitting in.

But when I travel back home, I am an outsider there too.

Me,

a Korean-Canadian

right

down

to

the core.

From mannerisms to my way of thinking,

I am neither one nor the other.

I hope one day I can be proud to be me.

But for now, this is me.

I watch from the shadow of the tree,

Silent as an owl.

The warm atmosphere of community floats in the air,

And the chatter fills my ears, reminding me of spring birds chirping.

But behind this facade, a cold reality blows in like the winter wind.

There are scarce true friends in these groups.

The wolves cluster together into one giant group, trying to appease the alpha female

Who has a smile that is sickeningly sweet that does not extend to her eyes.

She is a person who likes to have absolute control over her pack.

People like her are unavoidable.

But if you search beyond the crowd, there are some wanderers.

Friendly faces, who radiate warmth and kindness.

The only bonfires in the snow.

These are people who accept you for who you are.

A happy thought shatters like the ice on the lake as I realize that

True friends are disappearing.

I dance to the sounds of music,

I dance to the sounds of “Bigger! Smaller! Higher!”

I dance to express myself in ways many people can't.

This expression takes time and hard work.

I see myself in the mirror dancing, stretching, and practicing.

I see other dancers moving themselves in challenging ways

I see the hardwood floor and the ballet bars that stand like trees

But I also hear people talking …

“Dancing isn’t hard, you just move your body,”

“Dance isn’t difficult, it’s maybe even easier than running.”

“Dance isn’t tough, anyone could do it.”

“Dance isn’t time consuming, you shouldn’t waste your time on it.”

They don’t take it seriously,

They don’t take us seriously,

They don’t take the hard work or the time we spend seriously

They don’t take anything seriously, until they try it themselves.

I was five then; in springtime,

Playing in my backyard.

Climbing ropes to the tree-house, with my brother?

It was fun, once, in springtime.

Then I was thirty-five, in summer,

My husband was with me,

What was his name?

Johnny, I think…

Now, in my ninetieth fall, I watch through the window, unsure.

The kids are raking my leaves for me… I need help.

I look at the lady and she looks back,

Her eyes are blank, looking beyond me.

I keep on raking, with purpose.

With each rake, I help her… I rake.

She will remember me no more in winter,

But I hope that I see her in spring.

It started off, as me alone,

We became opposites like the sun and moon,

But in the end we will always come together, like an eclipse,

My sister and I.

Together we created souls, That entwines us all during our adventure,

As we enter the unknown we explore, And find challenges that end up letting us,

Paint and create Our love.

When I fall off that steep cliff, That you see in your darkest dreams,

A hand appears and pulls me back up,

She will always be there for me,

Listening with all ears, Observing with all eyes,

Finding a way to extend that hand, And pull me out of my nightmares.

My sister and I,

We sit together on cold winter nights, We share what no one wants to hear,

We hold out our hand for each other,

This is us.