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Author Archives: TaeHun Yoon 윤 태헌 尹 太憲
“Gwangjang Market”
This morning we hurried beneath Seoul, riding the subway toward Gwangjang Market, and before the market itself revealed its thousand faces, a nine-month-old girl riding in her stroller offered us the first greeting of the day. Her mother beside her, … Continue reading
“At Hyupsung, with an Old Friend”
We journeyed southward, to the city where King Yeongjo‘s Suwon HwaSung Fortress beneath the patient hills, where generations pass and memory lingers among the pines. There I met again my old friend, Rev. Dr. Se-Hyoung Lee, teacher of teachers, a … Continue reading
“Over Cheongpung Lake”
The water remembers. Not only water, but roads that no longer lead anywhere, a stone step before a vanished door, a mulberry tree reaching toward a field that now sleeps beneath the lake. Names once spoken at dusk rest quietly … Continue reading
“Cricket on My Window”
Who are you, little voyager of the green world? Out of the roaring highway you came, out of the bright rush of June, out of the invisible fields and grasses beyond the guardrails, crossing the torrent of speed without hesitation. … Continue reading
“Traveling”
Early summer. I sit upon a bench before Sungsan Art-hall Grand Theater in Changwon, Korea, waiting, listening, already traveling before a single note is sung. Not by airplane, not by train, not by the crowded arteries of cities— but by … Continue reading
“Ascending Namsan”
At last, I climbed Namsan. For the first time. All my life I had longed for this mountain. And Namsan welcomed me as though it had been waiting for ages beyond counting, through millions of years of stone and sky. … Continue reading
“Passing By”
I spent a day in Seoul, changing from bus to subway, following directions toward Entrance 2 of Line 2. Then my eyes fell on a small street garden beneath a forty‑story tower of glass. A single white lily smiled at … Continue reading
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“Half a Century Later”
Time does not pass. It settles quietly like dust upon an old hymnal, like sunlight resting on photographs whose faces still wait in a fading frame. And after fifty years— or perhaps only yesterday— five friends gathered again by the … Continue reading
“The Ranger Platoon of Love”
I sing the red-capped Master Sergeant, chief instructor of the Rangers on Gamaksan, whose voice once rolled through the mountains like thunder among the pines, whose boots struck the ridges and taught young men how to climb fear, how to … Continue reading
“God Who Stretches Out His Hand”
Last Sunday, pastor delivered his message on God’s stretching out His hands over us. The Church is celebrating her birth-year on Deuteronomy 8:2, “Remember these forty years—the grace, the glory, and the guidance of God.” Remember these forty years. Not … Continue reading
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