Good Morning in my Room

짐을 정리하다가, 내가 머물렀던 공간에 대한  새로운 시선을 갖게 되었다. 커다란 방에 짐을 너절하게 벌리고 살아서 잘 몰랐던 집이라는 공간.  텅빈 공간에 밖으로 부터 들어오는 빛으로 인해 나의 춤추는 그림자를 보았다. 그림자가 없었다면, 결코 빛이라는 이름을 몰랐을지도 모를 그 순간 말이야.

먹고 자고했던 그 필수적이고도 동물적이었던 그 공간과 이별중이다. 뭘 하느라고 이렇게 방치를 하며 살았지? ㅎㅎㅎ 내가 사는 모습이려니 하며...

Room in Antwerp
by Laure-Anne Bosselaar 

Dust covers the window, but light slips through—
it always does—through dust or cracks or under doors.

Every day at dusk, the sun, through branches,
hits a river's bend & sends silver slivers to the walls.

No one's there to see this. No one.
But it dances there anyway, that light,

& when the wind weaves waves into the water
it's as if lit syllables quivered on the bricks.

Then the sun sinks, swallowed by the dark. In that dark
more dust, always more dust
settles—sighs over everything.

There is no silence there, something always stirs
not far away. Small rags of noise.

Rilke said most people will know only a small corner of their room.

I read this long ago & still don't know how to understand
that word only, do you?

Where are you? I think of you so often
and search for you in every face that comes between me & dust,
me & dusk—first love, torn corner from this life.