Kkachi

Kkachi
Omen of good luck, harbinger of guests
The Koreans said.
Kkachi
Bird of fables, trickster, figure of the oppressed.
Kkachi
“Springtime of our hope”, the children sang.
Kkachi
Clever survivor inside the concrete forest.
Kkachi
A place in nature for you best,
Your nest upon the tallest tree of every hill.

Kkachi,
Royal blue wings, clean white breast
Kkachi
Tail feathers nearly a foot long

Kkachi
Was your Name,
Your only Name.
Kkachi,
Was like no bird I had ever seen.

With infinite seriousness it flew
Sincerity the substance of its wings
Carried between Heaven and Earth
By the Sons and Daughters of the Elements
Lifted in the Emptiness of its progress
Upon unmoving wings
Its destination already perfectly Accomplished.

Flying across the fields, then gone…
Yet the image of this bird was creased in my mind.
Its flight an utter epiphany

As if nothing had ever moved
As if nothing had ever occurred
As if nothing had ever arisen

But had always been there
Because it had always been here now
Within this field so subtle
That it cannot perceive itself

Within my mind
Without words to describe
What I had just seen,
Everything so wondrously Nameless.

And I asked beautiful Hyun Yoon that day
What was this bird I had just seen.
I could only draw a foolish picture on a scrap of paper
That did little to convey the wonder
I had felt at seeing this prodigy
That had blessed the rice fields like
A Buddhist priest
And rose above the pines,
Its tail feathers trailing long robes
Across the temple floors of sky.
A headcrest like a bonze’s cap
And a song in its throat
Like a small bell with a broken clapper
Like one used in a meditation hall
To end a session.

And full of charm she informed me:

“Oh, yes, that’s Kkachi.”
I still didn’t understand.
What was the name of this bird in English
That had translated me into the Nameless?
And the dictionary said,
Magpie. Nothing more or else.

But Kkachi,
Not Korean magpie
Is its only name

And I realized that there were endless names
Throughout human languages
For the same things, often just bare equivalencies.
Yet throughout this huge world
Each land held unique treasures
That only were seen in that land, only were known
In that country’s language,
Everything else only
Mere approximation.

And I knew
That all Dharmas,
All things, are but temporary
Names taking place in the void
And not real.
Only brief addresses
To aid us on our journey through
The Unknowable.
And I realized then...

JAL