Gireogi Appa

by Mina Yun, Canyon Crest Academy, 25'

*(A gireogi appa (기러기 아빠, literally "goose dad") is a South Korean term that refers to a
man who works in Korea while his wife and children stay in an English-speaking country such as
the United States for better education of the children.)

Father, I miss our home in Korea
When grandma was only two blocks away
Where we talked face-to-face instead of to a phone
How we were all one, united family
Now I long for your return at 7 every night

Father, I don’t feel comfortable here
I see unacquainted faces
I hear unfamiliar sounds
Various hues and infinite phonemes
Tongues beyond my comprehension
Whispering and mocking my foreign name
Quick side glances, smug facial expressions,
Distinct body languages bombarding my way
I yearn to be home with you
Cradling in your arms in a city far away

Father, my heart aches for you.
Laboring day and night: selfless and unconditional
It breaks my heart to see you living alone
I want to be as persevering as you
I want to be your pride
Showing that every hard-earned penny you have sent
Was well worth your sacrifice
In the far distance off the coast, I spot a lone geese in the sky
I call out its name yet it flys off in the light

Mother, what about Father?
Is he not coming with us?
How long will we stay?
How will I make friends?
When will we see Father again?

​

Mother, I wish we could go back home
The kids here frighten me
With clothes, toys, and homes we can’t afford
Our apartment looks squalid compared to theirs
My toys look filthy next to their shiny dolls
I feel ashamed to invite my friends to play
I am ashamed to have come from so far away

Mother, my heart aches for you.
Pushing a smile when times get tough
Giving nothing but pure, unconditional love
I hear you weeping at night
To Father on the phone
I want to please you
I promise I’ll make you proud

The nest is dark and cold in the wind
I spot two geese eggs, unguarded and vulnerable

Sister, come and take a look at our house
Fairly different than the one back home
We have a back porch and a staircase upstairs
We eat meals on a cardboard box
And my desk is the floor with a lamp in the corner

Sister, I want to color my hair
My hair is so black
My name too foreign
Tangled up in twisted tongues
Written in complex squiggles and curves
If I go lighter I may stand out less
And fit right in like the other girls do

Sister, the house feels empty without you
Your seat is always empty
Your plate is never filled
Your door is always closed
I long for the holidays to see you here again

I now spot a geese not only at shore,

But closer to my home and truest at its core