© TaeHun Yoon, 1978

As if the sunlight,
ready to depart,
straightened its spine—
stretched its golden body
wide across the lake.

On my cheek,
a trace of tears remained—
unwiped,
unforgotten.

Do you know the sorrow
of gathering grains
buried deep in the mire?

You asked your questions
as if shaping them
out of silence.

This—
this is where we part.

You sent me forth
to play the spy,
but I only meant
to follow you.

We forgot to pray.

We hauled a sea scorpion
from the deep,
and without dividing
bone from flesh,
we chewed it whole—

as we have done
for a thousand hungry years,
pressed from all sides,
taught to endure.

We sank the lake
beneath the curtain of night,
waiting—
for miracles to rise like stars.

But only the sound—
the hammering of iron—
entered our ears.
Nothing else came.

And once again,
as if the morning sun
meant to depart,
it straightened its spine
and stretched its body
wide across the lake.