Friday, 26 February 2021

Mother - Ki Hyung-do

Mother
Is not coming home. She left
for the market, carrying on her head thirty 
stems of young radish to sell. She’s not
coming home. The sun has long
Set. I sit in the room like
A cold ball of uneaten rice in a bowl.
No matter how slowly I do my
Homework, she’s not coming.
The sound of her footsteps, like the leaves of 
Cabbage brushing against themselves,
I don’t hear them. It is dark
And I am scared. Through the cracks
On the window, the quiet sound of rain.
And I cry, alone,
Lying on my stomach. Once
Upon a time, the upper half 
Of my childhood, still makes my eyes
Burn.

Ki Hyung-do [Gi Hyeong-do] (1960 - 1989) South Korea
Translated by by Dasom Yang
Source: traumjournal

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