Mount Kumgang

Beyond valleys bright with October foliage
the peaks of Manmulsang pierced the sky
and seeing us, who had come across the Pacific,
waved both arms in welcome
stern Birobong Peak was hidden somewhere
and Haegeumgang on the East Sea seemed to hide far off, shy,
but Gwimyeonam Rock embraced us as we climbed up on foot, and even sang
along with stream water as clear as the spring water falling from the rocks
the flowing wind slipped past the great letters carved deep into the cliffs
at the hotel where the lights kept going out, we ate a supper of freshly gathered seaweed soup
the bright, twinkling sky dreaming with the stars beyond the window
came near enough to touch; we stayed awake long through the night
on the road of parting, regret stung and sank deep
in the tour bus with its slumped shoulders, a South Korean compatriot, drunk,
sang pop songs, while beyond the barbed wire outside the window
a gaunt People's Army soldier, his uniform flapping loose in the wind, stood alone
in the valley where dark time has stopped
the silence of the rocks beats upon the chest
that a day will come when the sacrifice of tens of thousands who endure opens into light—
the grumbling engine that dragged us away sounded aching and tearful