April 2006 (Haiku)

Weeping cherry tree

Tell me what has made you cry

“The beautiful spring”

Author’s Note:

A young woman of some unidentified years, wandered the streets of suburb Tokyo in search of nothing but the passing time. Down a sakura lined street, past a daycare center, through a local market and under a train rail overpass she walked. There was no rush to her step, no mindless concentration on her face, only contentment. She had come home. Around a corner, down an alley, across a street, she wandered. Had it only been a year? It felt longer.

A familiar road. A familiar gate. Something pulled at the dusty corners of her memory and took hold of her feet. Now curiosity steered her. She recalled her twelve year old self being lead across this same way, summoned by the faint sounds of a festival. There was no festival now, however, throngs of people migrated towards an old building at the end of the stone path. It is only in Tokyo that she had ever seen such a collision of the modern and the past. Tucked down the street from the train station, the malls, the stores, the company buildings was an ancient shrine. Preserved and honored in all its original glory.

Over the gray shale gravel she walked, strolling under the gates and through the rough hewn wooden doors, into the little courtyard. And suddenly, she can go no further. The sight to be taken in is to grand, to magnificent, to wondrous. A tree, an ancient tree of unknown years stands twisted, gnarled and proud. Like a willow, thin little branches hang down, brushing the gray ground. But covering every available branch, every available space are little pink flowers. They cover the tree, until it looks like a pale pink cloud, hovering there among the green tree tops. The throngs of people throng around it adorningly, praising its endless beauty. Children gather to witness its beauty for the first time, grandparents gather to see it for perhaps the last time. Teenagers pull out their cell phones to capture the tree and send it to their friends, to share the beauty of spring.

The young woman watched for some time. And then she moved into the inner sanctum of the shrine. She clasped her hands together and prayed to the gods of this country to please grant her passage again. Let her return for another spring. Let her witness the beautiful spring here again.