Ashley Kim

Betula ermanii (est. 1948)

from Mount Kumgang, Gangwon-do, Korea

In the space between sister lands.
I look up and see
wishbones growing out of tree trunks, wild cranes flying but no water for miles.

I want to remember the stories
of my mother’s mother,
how the mountain people would pluck
off the bones at their
stems and carry them near their hearts, how they would pray
that the bone would sing the muscle’s song and grant them a wish.

I want to recall how they would bask
under dry persimmon suns
and pears that resembled full moons
waiting for this young and dangerous hope to take root in their body.

But the wound is too wide
and that green expanse too broad.

When sisters are separated too long will they be able to remember?

This one thing I recall: Pleading with the earth
the mountain people roamed that in-between space where deer with antler crowns stalked terrifying forests and the eyes of four-eyed wolves
glowed like tiny suns in the night
but to no avail: their wishes dropped on barren land.

I lay on the wet soil of sleeping dreams.

For as long as I have lived
the cardinal directions governed this realm North and South, outsiders called them with no end in sight.

I know this, I do
and yet I choose to be foolish or brave, bark scratching against my hands as

I rise and take hold of
that young and dangerous hope.

Ashley Kim is a third-year English student at UCLA hoping to pursue a career in medicine. She enjoys buying copious amounts of books that end up piling up on the corner of her desk, begging to be read, and thinking of Letterboxd reviews while watching movies. She is currently trying to make sense of her life through words.