Eternal – 영원한

The last few years, I have been digging into my Korean ancestry and was inspired by how strong the peoples of Korea have been, how much tenacity and survival lives in my veins. Through pain and loss, they stood up and shouted for their independence and freedom, and oftentimes peacefully protested (though the oppressors were not so peaceful). Koreans still protest—to reunify Korea, to shut down martial law, to end the Korean War. Through the years, I have also learned to grieve, for my ancestors, for myself, for my family. Here is a poem I wrote in 2023:

Buried ancestors—how can I access the voices, the thoughts, the pain, the smiles, the laughter of you when you are beneath the ground. I know I can hear you some nights in my dreams.

When you were pillaged and murdered brutally because others thought the land was theirs to take, that the People were theirs to control—were you silenced as you were buried with blood-soaked dirt? Do you rest, do you dream? Do you scream as your bones disintegrate as time eats everything away?

Do my tears bring you back? When I think of you—want to connect with and learn from you—do you hear me?

Are you proud of me, like I am of you? You were so strong, so resilient, so outspoken. You shouted no at the top of your lungs when your blood was shed, as your children and mothers and sisters were ripped from your strong arms and beat to the ground. You screamed no with your blood as your fathers and brothers were kidnapped to be kept as slaves and soldiers.

Are these connections buried? Or can I access you, hear you—and can you hear me? I long for the (re)connection—to unbury your lost souls, tell you how your strength reverberates through our souls, tell you how your memories live on and on in our blood, for we are Eternal.

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