Michael I. Byun Poems

Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
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The Blue Ridge Mountains are like pulsing arteries.
The heart lies in the Shenandoah Valley.
The coursing blood was spilled to create a nation of patriots.
Sacrifice gave life to the United States of America. Standing here, I am reminded of my mother country.
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Blue Ridge Mountains are covered with green foliage
Clouds rest on top of the mountains
Mountain trails writhe like life's road
Valley waters fall into rivers like passing days Flowers blossom and birds sing
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