— by Kim Sa-in
Crouched beneath the eaves,
waiting out the sudden shower.
Come in, stay awhile.
Gilded head to toe, the old man sits
and keeps throwing me a sly, playful smile,
but I decide to pretend I don't see.
I stare stubbornly only at the slender neck of the balsam flower
swaying under the raindrops.
I think of the headscarf of a woman from long ago,
who broke off from thinning the peppers in the garden
and came scurrying to take in the laundry.
Beyond the hazy sheets of rain,
she was young then.
Oh dear, you must have misheard him. It was not "Come in, stay awhile" — surely it was "Please help me up." He must have wanted to walk out and let the cool rain fall on a back thick with dust. He must have wanted to unfold the fingers that had hardened into a single unchanging gesture. He must have wanted to brush the wet balsam blossoms. He must have wanted, too, to pick a pepper from the garden and chew it down. How his legs must have ached, folded in a lotus position he has never once been able to unfold since the day he was enshrined. How his ears must have rung from listening to wishes for wealth, health, marriage, childbirth and exam results. And how hurt he must have been that the one person who might have understood his own single wish was so determined to pretend not to see. — the poet Ban Chil-hwan
