Diana Johar – What The Sea Asks
My father watches the haenyeo from the top of
Seongsan Ilchulbong, the wind carrying salt
and kelp across the crater rim.
His father was a fisherman too, deep-sea diving
off East Coast, trying to feed ten mouths at home.
Maybe that’s why he was given away —
one less mouth to feed,
practicality outliving sentimentality.
I never dared ask him what he felt about it,
though I already know the answer
from the way he stoically provided for us
through the years, never complaining,
never protesting when my brother needed
another pair of football boots, or when I
wanted to go overseas for a school trip.
And now I see it in the way he tenderly
cradles my sons in his arms,
a look of pure love etched across his weathered face.
I watch my father watch the haenyeo
and hope the sea never asks that much of him again.