Haru (Japanese for Spring)

an ode to Japan 2011

Heaving earth shook Japan awake to the sway

Of skyscraper buildings. The ocean

Caught chills from abrasive tectonic plates.

Swells rose above the shoreline and

Spilled over rooftops and swept the streets.

 

Flood waters lapped at the heels

Of runners racing for the highest hills.

Picking up pieces in a sandy wave,

A grey blanket of grief, vast as villages,

Hoarded homes and scattered thatch roofs

Under thick skies smudged ashy black.

 

But,

Haru! Haru!

Spring will come again soon...

 

The ebb-tug retreated from straw and paper walls.

Miyagi is strewn with muddy footprints

Where an old man stands on the wayside

With his bulging cardboard box

Of other people's photo albums.

His fingers unrolled the scrolled edges.

 

With water-spotted bookmarks in hand

He bowed to sunshine that dried mire into cakes

Of crack-able dirt as dust clouds of cherry blossoms

Cloaked the driftwood- rubble. 

 

But,

Haru! Haru!

Spring will come again soon...