The Spirit of Sungnyemun

The Spirit of Sungnyemun
The South Gate opens and the bell rings, and the enlightened land brightens in a flash
the threshold grandfather crossed when he left, casting away his cane
King Taejo of Joseon planted his sword and hauled house-sized boulders, reeking of sweat and blood
the tiger that growled at the roots of Seonbawi Rock on Inwangsan
the cries of midsummer katydids lull the moonlit night to sleep
Byeongangsoe, voice booming, in a gat and ramie coat, spreads a silk fan
logs of Gangwon-do's Geumgang pine rolled here on long chains
the master carpenter measured them with his long rule and snapped the ink line
when the general, the royal table cleared away, draws his bowstring
the arrow leaving the gate tower pierces the full moon
outside the South Gate a doddering grandmother looks for her wooden clogs
a bachelor's A-frame left behind in the valley
women in braid ribbons gleaning ears of rice
came carrying loads of grass-scented laughter
inside the gate, tumbling tricks and clown plays
even court ladies in hwarot robes clutch their bellies laughing
stonemasons bury the footing stones, carpenters raise pillars and lift the great beams high
as if combing hair with a fine-toothed comb, they hewed with adzes, pushed planes, and chiseled grooves
the baby king, crown pressed down on his head, voice rasping,
raises his voice to rule the dynasty
on a night of puppet shows and shadow plays
Sungnyemun burned
in the white smoke of a burning heart grandfather's beard burned
the firefighters' streams of water overflowed the tile roof like the Han River
wind-flowers withered on Bugaksan and blood soaked the silver grass of Cheonggyecheon
under the arch, the boots of southern and northern armies
even the startled ancestors departed far away to Hwaseong
on the checkerboard of streetcar tracks, politicians and money men
push and pull, temples throbbing with the noise
will grandmother, lying on her mat, stop the stubborn factional feuds?
Donghak rebels aching with Gwanaksan fever
netizen shills loitering outside the walls
throng to the South Gate and clamor
the bones of young men who died groaning
will they one day see the light at an excavation site?
the bracket arms holding up the great beam
blaze with five colors in silk-flower dancheong
the ox-head brackets lifting the eaves
thrust out their long tongues, swirling
at the tile ends of the eaves the phoenix bends its neck to preen its feathers