A Rather Complex Passion

It really is a rather complex passion. Seeing the way Li-Young Lee describe the relationship he has with his father was quite painful to read for an Asian American individual. That which I myself as a child that also grew up in an Asian family, can relate.

What Lee has done with this poetry, is a magnification of the relationship a father have towards his son, if only we closely examine his use of imagery.

I am sure most of us have caught on to the "gift" Lee receives from his father, which he explicitly identifies as the “gift of tenderness.” What allures me however, is what Lee did not identify. Such as the “flame of discipline” that rises above his head. The imagery of flame usually symbolizes passion and urgency, and in this instance, both these subjects. Those hands have been passionately, urgently, educated Lee to become the mature man he is today (as he will in present time, use his own hands to remove splinters from his wife's right hand).

Those hands that can masterfully remove splinters from Lee's hands, not only serves to protect the young lee, but also promotes order and discipline in the young child. Those were the hands that teaches.

  From this imagery I have come to understand that those hands are not all holy and protective. But have somewhere along the line, been used to punish the young Lee.

Another interesting factor that I find from his use of imagery is the identification of the removed splinter as “a sliver tear, a tiny flame”. Knowing the fact that tears is a component of fluid, stands in complete juxtaposition with the component of flame. Yet they were used to identify the same splinter that is now in the hand of young Lee. This again hint on the irony, almost awkward nature of his father as a savior. Perhaps Lee’s father is one of those unlikely heroes, that only this part of his memory, does he come to commemorate him.

Whatever the case may be, this poem has proven effective in helping me feel the idea of love-hate relationship one would have with his/her parent(s). And all that is left to make of this complexity we have for our parent(s), as told by Lee, is the gesture of a kiss at the end of poem.