Poetry: Burning My Mother’s Memories

The children gathered in the empty house,

Burning the objects filled with their mother’s memories.

Ms. Byung Ran Yu, a poet from Korea, the Land of Morning Calm, shares her poetry

Ms. Byung Ran Yu, a poet from Korea, the Land of Morning Calm, graduated from the Department of Creative Writing at the Graduate School of Culture and Arts at Dongguk University. She received the New Writer’s Award from the literary magazine Buddhist Literature in 2014. Her poetry collections include Burning My Mother’s Memories and There Is Such a Thing as Acceptance. She is an editorial board member of Buddhist Literature and contributes to various literary magazines.

 Burning My Mother’s Memories

The children gathered in the empty house,

Burning the objects filled with their mother’s memories.

 

Books on the low wooden desk,

Worn and scarred in many places,

Disappeared into the flames,

Covered in dust.

 

The medicine cabinet, polished smooth

From being opened and closed countless times,

Was still filled with medicine

Waiting for its owner.

From the old, tattered clothes hanging on the wall,

The scent of mother lingered.

 

“She only wore worn-out clothes,

Leaving the new ones untouched,”

My eldest sister murmured,

Not quite blaming, but not without sorrow.

Clothes with tags still on,

Underwear never worn,

Hovered in the fire before vanishing.

 

In the backyard, where shadows stretched long in the fading light,

Only withered pepper stalks

And a few winter scallions remained,

Hunched against the cold.

 

After three days of reunion,

One by one, the family members

Started their cars,

Preparing to leave.

 

Now, Mother is gone.

Only the long silence

Will remain to keep the empty house.

***

엄마를 태우다

빈집에 모인 자식들이 엄마를 태웠다

 

여기저기 패이고 흠집이 많은

앉은뱅이 책상위의 책들도

먼지를 뒤집어쓴 채 불길 속으로 사라져 갔다

 

수없이 열고 닫아 반질반질해진 약장 속에는

주인을 기다리고 있는 약들로 가득 차 있고

벽에 걸린 허름한 옷가지에서

엄마 냄새가 난다

 

해진 옷만 입고 새옷은 그대로 라며

큰 언니의 원망아닌 원망과

표도 뜯지 않은 옷과 내복들이

불길 속을 맴돌다 사라져 간다

 

그림자가 뉘엿뉘엿 길게 눕고 있는 텃밭은

앙상하게 마른 고추 대궁과 겨울대파 몇 뿌리가

언 몸을 웅크리고 있다

 

삼일간의 만남을 끝낸 가족들이

하나 둘 차 시동을 걸고 떠날 채비를 서두른다

 

이제 엄마는 없다

긴 고요만 남아 빈 집을 지킬 것이다.

________________

Read: My Hometown – Poetry from Korea