His Miraculous Conception (1/2)

I cannot believe my ears;

Those words could not have been spoken.

I have been deaf for so long:

Speaking to him -

To no one,

Never hearing anything in return.

I cannot trust these ears that have been asleep for so long,

Patient in the absence of his sound.I have been waiting for this moment for so long.

And so have they.

'They have grown tired of the wait,' think I.

'They must have wanted to move on whilst my heart refused.

And so they tricked me, their foolish master.'

But oh,

How beautiful is his sound!

Smooth against my skin;

Full of sweet fragrance;

Brighter than the sunshine behind the curtain, the constantly shining light. 

It is a sound only heard once -

A sound unable to be replicated.

A sound that musicians long to feel,

Birds beg to master,

And life itself weaves into the beginning of every end,

The start of life and the procession of the dead.

His sound is life, and life is his sound.

How long have I been waiting to hear his sound!

How long have I been wishing to hear his voice.

But after waiting so long for something so seemingly simple...

It is hard to believe that it has even come.

I have thought that I would soon die before he ever would speak a word;

I have feared leaving without hearing his voice.

But something has stirred his spirit,

Lifted him high above his sorrow,

And freed him from her...

Made him speak the most beautiful words I have ever heard -

Words that can never be repeated in the same way.

"Wait. Please...wait."

That is all he said.

That is all he needed to say.Words so full of hope -

So drenched in a deeper, personal meaning.

Words that speak pages of unspeakable prayers, hopes, and wishes;

Words that spark the symphony of silence,

Inspired by the opening of a long-sealed heart and the finding of a long-lost traveler,

Searching for a woman who will never be found,

But who he cannot, will not, choose to forget.

He has finally spoken;

He finally has finally been conceived.

The road to rebirth will be long,

But I will not let him travel alone.

I will take his hand and lead him

Into the light behind the curtain and out of the room covered in old wallpaper.  And he will soon be free to feel.

Free to remember.

Free to love.

Free to live.

Nam Woohyun has spoken, and I can hardly believe my ears.

Nam Woohyun has spoken, and his words are sweet and meaningful.

How long have I waited? How long indeed?Time past is no longer important;

There is only him sitting by the curtain,

Asking for me to stay.

And his words that echo in my ears give me the confidence to oblige.

Nam Woohyun has spoken, and I can hardly believe my ears.

Nam Woohyun has spoken, and he will soon be reborn.

"I don't...I don't believe this," I say hesitatingly, wondering if his words are merely part of a selfish fantasy straight from the realms of unconsciousness.

"Did you...really...just answer?"

For a few moments, there is no sound.

Not from him.

Not from me.

Not from anything.

Sound has ceased to exist.

In the vacuum of the apartment sits a broken boy -

A boy who looks out of a closed curtain and only sees shattered hopes and illusory promises.

He has just spoken.

I am sure he has just spoken.

I couldn't just be...imagining his words...could I?

They seem so real. Like they came from someone...alive.

They have to be real.

They have to be.

After the seconds pass by uncertainly, the most euphonious of sounds rings on high:

His voice.

"Yes. I answered.

But...why don't you believe that I did?"

His sound makes me feel dizzy with a sense of renewed hopefulness.

His sound cultivates my hope for him and drowns me in dreamlike visions of the future -

A future where he is smiling, laughing, singing, just as he used to,

A stream of sunlight falling through his open curtains,

The old, dirty wallpaper stripped from the walls,

And the light in the bedroom finally switched off,

Leaving he and I alone in the comfort of the darkness,

Absorbing each others' energy and disposing of each others' regrets.

I follow his enchanting sound with an overjoyed heart.

When I am standing at the entrance of his bedroom,

I lean on the frame of the open door and say:

"It's just that...you've never answered me before.

I've been talking to you every day for seven months...

But today was the first time you've ever answered me.

I just can't believe...

That you've finally...

Spoken. After so long."

Woohyun still looks at the curtain;

He has not stopped looking at the curtain for seven months.

The more I look at his back,

Slouched and weak with the loss of vitality,

The more I wish for him to turn around -

To look away from that curtain.

To look...

At me.

Just once.

"I'm...I'm sorry I didn't answer before.

I didn't mean to seem...

Ungrateful...for your help..."

"I never thought you were ungrateful at all.

If I had thought you ungrateful,

I wouldn't have come back.

I knew you needed help, Woohyun.

And I wanted to be the person to give you the help you need.

But seeing one month, two months, three months pass without you insomuch as look at me...

I became...worried about you.

Very worried.

I was starting to think that...

I'd never hear you speak again.

That you'd never...

be you again."

The silence comes back again and hovers over us.

She is comforting yet cruel -

A friend and an adversary.

I want to hear Woohyun speak again

And I want to see his face...

But it does not matter what I want;

What I want never has mattered.

I must give him time:

To wake from his dream;

To collect his thoughts;

To awaken his heart;

To find himself.

To be reborn.

How hard it must be for him.

What kind of a friend would I be

If I rushed his healing process

And left him only half-fixed,

Ready to fall apart at any moment?

Woohyun is too dear for my selfishness

And too undeserving of the consequences it may inflict.

I must help him -

Protect him -

By hurting myself.

By making myself wait.

"Listen, Woohyun...

I...I can't even begin to imagine...

How you're feeling.

If I could...

I would have been able to help you.

Right from the start.

But I can't.

I can't and...

All I can do...

Is give you time.

I know it might take...days, months, years for you to recover...

But I want nothing more than to see you happy.

As happy as you used to be.

So I...

I won't rush you...

In your recovery.

I don't want to make you speak when you don't wan to...

I don't want to make you do anything when you don't want to.

I just want you...

To try...

To beat this.

Try to come back,

To be the person you were before.

Because who you were before...

You still are now,

And you still came become.