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