First-generation Korean immigrants share poignant experiences

“I Am Homeland,” edited by Choi Yearn-hong

By Amanda Meeker

The title “I Am Homeland” and the poetic cover image seem a little vague until you see the poem upon which the book was named.

The poem, “I Am Homeland” by Yi Chun-u explains the feeling of being trapped between two cultures, that of America and that of Korea. The poet concludes that he is not trapped between two countries but is like a country unto himself: “Since I am the homeland now there can be no other.”

This is unlike the idea of a sovereign citizen, a legal concept that is laughed at by government officials, but is more like an idealistic identity, the identity of a Korean-American who is neither Korean nor American, but both at the same time. From the introduction, the reader can tell that the theme of this book is the experiences of first generation Korean immigrants.

However, within that theme there are few other similarities. It is a well-rounded book with a lot of different perspectives on the same theme.

When we read “Poet” by Ro Se-woong, we are reminded that “poetry is very close to poverty in spelling.”

So we must remember that the poets in this book have a life outside of poetry. They come from all walks of life. We have here an economist, business owner, monk, multiple doctors and others. Choi Yearn-hong’s poem about Buddhist monk Ven. Kyoungam gives us a glimpse into what one of their lives is like outside of poetry.

Not only are the poets diverse, but there are various translators as well. Kim Hyoung-o graciously points out that all of his poems are translated by a different person.

The poets are well-traveled and worldly. Their poems take us as far away as Tanzania, Lake Titicaca, the Andes, Machu Pichu, the Himalays, and Waikiki Beach. It is their worldliness that reminds us that they belong to Korea and America and at the same time belong to no country and are their own homelands, going back to the title.

The moods in this book range from funny (“Settlement” by Lee Byoung-kie) to political (“On Korean Politics” by Lee) to medical (“Recovery” by June C. Baek and “Gracious Maria” by Seo Youn-seok) and everything in between.

One of the most common moods among most of the poets is that of sympathy, sympathy for the victims of Sandy Hook, the Boston bombing (“Back from Boston” by Baek), the twister in Oklahoma (“Oklahoma, Oklahoma” by Choi), and the homeless (“Meals on Wheels” by Ro and “Time Out” by Baek).

In “Back from Boston,” Baek, using common phrases to an advantage, reminds us that “less is more than more Bostonians have” and says, “noise, noise everywhere, but not a voice to hear.”

In “Meals on Wheels,” by Ro, we glimpse into the life of a disabled woman: “Her wheelchair was broken, so she crawled from her room to the door/It was a long journey.”

Perhaps the best thing we can do is “Let the River of Tears Flow” or, as Choi remind us in his two poems about prayer “Prayer” and “Praying Hands,” is to pray. “Our Skin” by Seo also reminds us that, despite our blood type, our blood is always the same color. We are more alike than we are different.

What makes this an entirely desirable book to read is that it is highly relatable and well-written. Some poems that we can all relate to, at least all of us who work for a paycheck, feel that their lives are drudgery, or get excited for Fridays, are “Like a Dog, Like an Ox” by Yi and “Desert Poem—Hummingbird” by Kim Ho-gill.

I think we can also all relate to “Magic Key,” about forgetting keys, and “Airport Wait,” about losing someone in the airport.

In fact, the poet of both, Baek is good at capturing everyday life in general. Many men could relate to “At the Barbershop” by Ro. Then there is also just a general sense of well written poems, in its original Korean language or in its English translation. I think “the snow-mixed rain is falling/spreading the letter of purple/or orange to the ground” from “Friend” by Seo is just beautiful.

Another common mood is that of being a parent or family person to which many can relate. “David, On His Birthday” by Baek details the growth of a young boy through to his 12th birthday, and in “Black-White Picture,” by Ro, the poet smiles at her “precious granddaughter/Precious beyond all things.”

Lee Sung-ho reminds us of the pain of mothers in “Empty Nest” and “Mom’s Cellular Phone,” in which she pleads, “Children, please call your mom every day at least once.”

At the same time, we are given a touching poem where we see that simple pebbles “are the expression of daughter’s love of her dad” (“Poet’s Daughter” by Choi) and in “Meeting Father,” we see a meeting between Soon Paik and his father, “the first time in some sixty years.”

We are touched by life and saddened by death, as we contrast “Our Father Who Never Failed to Return” by Seo with “An Empty Tomb” by Chung Doo-hyun, about a father whose body was never found.

As I read through this book, I see a new similarity that most poets in this book share: the key to the poems are usually in the last lines. And in these last lines, I think “Goodbye to My Uncle” by Choi, is a good way to sum up the immigrant experience.