Lee Rena

[Dedicated to the orphans of Jacob's Home]

Dear sweet child, where is your family?
Who is beside you, to love you endlessly
A stranger born in a foreign land
Forgotten, abandoned with nothing in hand.

Dear sweet orphan have you a place to call home?
Have you any loved ones or do you suffer all alone?
Does anyone console you, wipe away your tears ?
Do you have anyone to comfort your fears?
Or on stormy nights, when you awaken to thunder
Must you cry yourself back to restless slumber?

Dear sweet Irena who will pray for your release?
Curse the ones that made you their bargaining piece
A blameless victim of the cruelest tradition
Amidst the loneliest depths of parentless perdition.

MYHL
10/13/05

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y H Landeweer

Commentary: This poem is dedicated to the orphans at Jacob's Home in Pyongtaek, South Korea, the orphanage where I spent part of my childhood. Because of legislation within the past couple years these children will never be adopted. The justification of this law is based on placing bloodlines ahead of the well being of children. Orphans up to the age of 4 may no longer be adopted unless the family has formally relinquished the child. Children above the age of 4 may no longer be adopted, period. If I had been born at the wrong time, I would have spent 13 years in orphanages rather than being raised, loved and nurtured by my wonderful parents.

The title of this work refers to a little Ukrainian girl who was abandoned by her parents and left at this Korean orphanage. Since she lacked identification, the orphanage named her Lee Rena, which when actually pronounced sounds as Ee-rhee-na (i.e. Irena). She, along with the dozens of toddlers at Jacob's Home will spend the entirety of their childhoods parentless and mostly forgotten by society.

This has been by far the hardest and most emotional poem for me to write. It has been in the works for well over a year, only materializing into a coherent poem only this past October.

Shelter From The Storm

Tides beckon the shores for a pernicious season
As meridian light succumbs to blackening swarms
Such cruel howling of Sirens blinds all reason
A prisoner once more of telluric storms

Too pallid to contend, too brittle to confess
Even amidst that Delphic voice calling me to stand
Battered and worn under constant duress
My foundation eroded from pillars to sand

Remorseful waves surge over the barrier reef.
Yet the horizon beyond sighs a susurrant credo
A delicate coral blush radiates the squall's relief
Cerulean eyes splintering apart the deepest ego

Bearing illumination unto this premature night,
Carnal tempest furies rendered completely null
Life proving yet again His providential light
Blessed forever by her, a lowly terrene angel.

MYHL
9/13/05

Commentary: This particular work was inspired by a friend of mine, one who has been a source of spiritual inspiration.

Vocabulary I learned writing this poem: Meridian - noontime; Telluric - earthly, terrestrial; Pallid- weak, pale; Susurrant - whisper-like; Terrene - of the Earth

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

V. A.

The lines of her face, delicate prints of labor
Once soft features, long past their prime
From her smile spring forth stirrings of felicity
Radiance pouring from the minutest glance

Far too long had I waded in dead seas
Rummaging cesspools expecting gems
Drowning in hypocrisy, smothered by vanity
Debunking forever the bliss of ignorance

Three brief dawns unclogged the drain
Serendipitous and abrupt in every respect
Washed and renewed in a shower of sanity
And by salts revived from an invisible trance

Perhaps our threads will never cross again
Night’s cloak obscures the morn of the morrow
Come what may, with peace or calamity
Patiently awaiting the light of Providence

MYHL
3/23/05

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

The Lost Season

Having lost the opportunity seasons past
For none scull against the River’s course
A choice was mine and mine alone
Never have I tasted such bitter remorse
Pleading for release of an unseen rendition:
The archived pilot that never aired.
A thousand drafts, revisions tenfold
Yet, with cast of one ‘twas never shared.
Fear and dejection jailed me once before
Shrouding truth deeper within.
Suppressed it seared, buried it burned
Relentless inferno raging beneath my skin.
No resolution breaks the darkening horizon.
Grace alone can charge Perdition's cease.
As the trod of death approaches day by day,
Thy holy wings will grant me peace.

MYHL
10/08/04

Notes:
· Reference to ΦΩΦ pledge class name: The Relentless Raging Inferno
· “Day by Day” and “Thy Holy Wings” are two of my favorite hymns

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

Thy Holy Wings

"Thy holy wings O savior
spread gently over me,
and let me rest securely
through good and ill in Thee.
Oh be my strength and portion,
my rock and hiding place,
and let my ev’ry moment
be lived within thy grace.

Oh, let me nestle near thee,
within thy downy breast
where I will find sweet comfort
and peace within thy nest.
Oh, close thy wings around me
and keep me safely there,
for I am but a newborn
and need thy tender care.

Oh, wash me in the waters
of Noah's cleansing flood.
Give me a willing spirit,
a heart both clean and good.
Oh, take into thy keeping
thy children great and small,
and while we sweetly slumber,
enfold us one and all. "

- Carolina Sandell Berg, 1832-1903

In-Decline

Far enough we’ve traveled
To test the lady’s patience,
Weaving past the deepest pine.
Her confidence in decline

“Where are the lights –
You Promised” says She
No beams have yet to shine.
Her confidence in decline

Is my compass misaligned?
My racing heart pounding
Deafens my scattered mind.
My confidence in decline.

“I trust you” whispers she
A kiss of sweetest kind,
With fingers intertwined,
Our diffidence in decline

MYHL
5/12/04

Commentary: The inspiration for this poem came from a dream from May of 2004. The text itself got lost in my old computer for quite some time. Despite the suggestive phrasing of the last stanza, the dream itself had very little to do with what one might think [nudge nudge wink wink]. In this dream, while searching for a city lit by auroras I led my friend astray deep in an old wood forest. In the moment of my greatest confusion and directional incompetence, my friend puts her trust in me, gives me a peck on the cheek, she holds my hand and we spiritedly search again for the lost city.

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y H Landeweer

An Army of One

I am an army of one.
One vision of single mind.
Under this unforgiving sun,
Terrorists and evil I will find.

Once in my extended campaign
They promised it’d be over soon.
The Cabinet with their iced champagne
Brush aside the swelling tombs.

The media in their Right pocket,
One party proclaims a troubling view.
Silencing all that mock it,
Or that puppet of a W.

Iraqi Freedom to American demise.
Our company under brutal attack.
My corpse becomes Tikrit’s prize:
A mutilated body in Iraq.

MYHL
4/21/04

Notes:
· Written after U.S. soldiers bodies were mutilated and paraded in Iraq, April 2004
· “I am an army of one” was the Army recruiting slogan at the time
· W. = George W. Bush
· Operation “Iraqi Freedom” name of the military campaign
· Tikrit was Saddam Hussein’s Hometown

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

A Commission

Commissioned to chart out beauty
Never requesting this particular mission
A prerogative to fulfill my duty
With a bit of muted ambition.

Where is the final destination?
“How can we know the Way?”
Find me some better navigation,
Or at least give me an ETA.

On my knees pleading for direction
Grace provided the abiding source.
I’ll continue in unending reflection,
Plotting out this new found course.

Through His waypoints I will travel,
Might they take me far past Siam,
‘Till I sleep with blankets of gravel,
For my C.O. is known as I AM.

MYHL
4/20/04

Notes:
· “The Way” - John 14:5
· C.O. = commanding officer
· “I AM WHO I AM.” - Exodus 3:14

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

The Death of Vitality

My clouded head decays,
As my hands accept their fate.
My vitality, my soul listlessly leak
Through the empty gaze of my eyes.

My wasting body strains to raise
One final gasp in steady rate
A breath, a breeze, silent and bleak
Shadowed beside a murmur, a sigh.

Spiritus meus requiescat in pace…                                     (1)
…Eternity flashes as lighting from Heaven's hand.

...The Rapture, the End of Ages draws nigh,
As Righteous words annul the grains of sand...

A fulgent light reveals itself hence:
“Have I reached the Kingdom?”
Alas! Glorious Day, Amen!

A gentle voice stirs in the distance,
“Hun, class is over now.”
Aw shit. I fell asleep again.

MYHL
10/21/02

Note: (1) May my spirit rest in peace
Commentary: Written in Dara's (Wegman-Geedy) Cell Bio Class to prevent me from falling asleep

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer

Good Morning Day... O Glorious Sun

Piercing through the shroud of the unlit wrath,
A glowing creature crawls, through pane to eye.

Upon my face, dance the heated rays
The fever of remote fires spurs my tired spirits

Let lambent light illuminate my path,
As the break of dawn paints the distant sky

Fueled by vibrant beams, unspoken voices say:
Blessed be this day; you have no reason to fear it

I smile.

Oh beautiful day, could I ever rise depressed or moody?
I marvel at Apollo's globe; its fire, power and mass.

I lay and ponder to watch the heavenly beauty:
“It’s just a ball of gas.”

MYHL
10/13/02

Copyright © 2006 Marc Y. H. Landeweer