Two Fragments of Remorse

 
Even when you don't call, I hear you perfectly,
because I'm always listening, always waiting for your voice.


When I'm out all day, father calls several times.
He wants to know if I've eaten properly, if I'm well...
Sometimes I get annoyed. I say, Dad, I'm working...!
'All right...' That's all he says, then goes quiet, never hangs up first.
I'm the one who cuts the call from this end and gets busy with my work.
But father—he never hangs up first!


Yesterday I was busy with various tasks all day, wasn't online at all.
Unlike every other day, I didn't see you when I woke up, didn't write to you.


While working, I kept thinking—
you must have missed me all day, not seeing me online,
you must have worried about me, or
sent me this and that in my inbox. Like,
where are you, why can't I see you all day, is something wrong... all that.
And finally, a phone call! In that call, surely some hurt would spill out...


When I came home in the evening, first thing I went online to find you.
I didn't have the courage to open my inbox—
afraid of what you might have asked, what answers I'd have to give.


Later when I saw there was nothing but a single 'good morning,'
I threw my phone on the bed and ran straight to father's room,
looked at him for a long time, and felt so very sorry...
for being annoyed at his phone calls.


In everything you do, there's so much joy for me.
All my tenderness is yours, and it runs deep.


You don't know how long I wait
for just one small word from you!


Know this—the girl who comes to you with demands of love,
with all her complaints and grievances,
her helplessness exists nowhere else in this world as much as it does with you.