The Life of Poet

[Yonah Jeong]

Everyone hopes
that their life might be
a fruit of blessing.
She, too, felt the same.
Her life—lived to the absolute limits
of her existence and capacity—
was not defined by happiness or misery,
sorrow or joy,
hardship or stability;
rather, it enchants the hearts
of the many who are destined
to live out their days in quiet ordinariness
She fell and shed her blood;
her poems wiped away that blood,
and now, they wipe away our tears as well.
Thus, even if only for a brief moment,
we are able to possess
Her work—works akin to her own children.
Fashioned from her words—
words of one who did not flee
but stood and fought
a battle she was bound to lose—
her poetry collection serves as our garment;
it has become our sanctuary,
following us wherever we go.

from Sylvia Plath