We met for the first time in a taemong.
Like a goddess fractaled by the sun’s reflection on water, you
reached for me into the riverbank, I
shone through the shadowed water below.
In your eyes, I glimmered with perfection, a reflection
of you, filling your hands with
promise and potential of the
perfect ddal. Then,
with your strength and intuition,
you placed on me
enough pressure to make diamonds.
But a diamond I was not, it was glass that I resembled.
I turned your dream to premonition,
and instead of sparkle, I cut.
I stained your palms in red. I became too sharp
to hold, and tore through your fingers.
Escaping from your grasp, I returned to the river
from which I came, then went.
I never meant
to hurt you, but stay I could not.
I couldn’t bear the pain of denying you the ddal that you sought.
Nonetheless, I promised myself
I’d eventually flow back to you.
Years down the river smoothed my jagged edge.
That time also healed the scars on your hands.
I became something you could cherish.
Maybe not the jewel from your dream,
But something resembling it.
Without the figments or fragments of then,
we sit together. Now, reality surrounds
us, just your kitchen, two coffees between,
a wooden bench beneath. We see
eye to eye, while sharing old memories.
Both of ours sparkling with recognition;
seeing the sun’s reflection on water, and
those jewels from your dream.
But unlike it–with my shining facade,
your pressure too hard–
my new lack of youth knows to cradle
your scarred, and aged hands.
Those jewels in the water were not that of your daughter.
In truth, they were me–your cheolchin.
And unlike that taemong;
I will hold you,
and I’ll let you hold me.
-A. Song
Avril Song 