Fuji

Claudia Lee in Year 8 has composed two poems that demonstrate her connection to family and culture. The way we express our deepest emotions to those who are closest to us can come in many forms. Claudia has captured the way acts of service denote these feelings perfectly in her carefully crafted compositions.
Angela Bunquin
Head of English

In my family, we don’t say ‘I love you’. Instead, the three words are transposed into silent acts of service. My mum’s love manifests in my life in the form of apple slices that are perfectly cut and peeled. My grandmother’s love for us comes in the form of ‘kimchi day’ where she shares foreign instructions and silently helps us salt the cabbage. My love for them comes in the form of typed words on blank pages. As expected, I too struggle to express my love for them, and my poems show and do what I cannot. In this way, poetry not only allows me to capture the love given to me by my mum and grandmother but also acts as a reminder that love exists even in silence.

Fuji
From the kitchen comes
a white plate serving
perfect pieces of Fuji.
Remnants of red removed,
leaving only skinless whites –
my way.
Each slice carved by
a precise blade
in soft hands –
maternal artisanship.
My tongue celebrates,
sour sweetness
hidden in a crisp bite.
They appear unrequested
next to unruly homework
next to unfolded clothes
next to high-spirited cousins.
A few pieces left on the plate,
fallen yellow slices
jaundiced and bruised.
No longer perfect;
No longer white.
Unknowingly
an evening feast for my mother.

The Korean Companion
Served in a small white bowl
you are present at every meal;
never the main, instead your role:
a permanent companion.
Painted by grounded chilli flakes
The white cabbage leaves are wilted
yet vibrant with new colour and purpose –
incarnadine.
A sour battle between chilli paste and
garlic
ensues on my tongue
opposing flavours
fermented into cohesion.
Embarrassingly pungent,
an intrusive concoction of
fishiness, soy, pepper –
the smell of home.
Imperfectly shaped,
your folds reflect my grandma’s wrinkled
hands
and the awkwardness of my mother’s
learning process.
You were birthed in aged onggi
in the Three Kingdoms;
Birthed again in grandma’s backyard
savoured in our Samsung fridge.
The ultimate Korean companion
from 2000 years prior to
everlasting
comfort. Kimchi.