If You Don't Come Home, I'm Too Afraid to Age

Kejia Wang

Truly, I have become old
So old that the small tree by the door is shedding for me
So old that I have shed a layer of dust
and another layer of dust

Gazing at all the dust lets me grieve,
the bonfire I kept for you on my breast is dying
the strength I kept for you in my arms is departing
— my eyes are starting to see the earth in slow motion
drifting in and out

Truly, I have become very old
— even in this following small stretch
I only continue to let that small tree by the door 
shed its final leaf for me
the world turns and time goes on flying

I say “if you don’t come home, I’m too afraid to age”
because when the world is alone
I still dimly wish that you are praying along