Friday, March 5, 2010
ON THE THRESHOLD OF WRITING A TANKA
Passing by a window on my daily walk
I hear singing, a quilter
Putting together patches of fabric
For soldiers returning from war.
I did not learn everything in kindergarten.
As I grow older, certain things
Are easier to forget, some things
Stay longer like stains of cabernet
On a wedding dress.
When your tongue hesitates
When grammar gets confused
Don’t despair, memory forgives
In ways you can not divine.
Engage your mind in play,
Imagine branches of creation
A persistent pilgrim finds,
How astonishingly beautiful,
Dawn, at the summit of Mt. Fuji.
In time, the words will come back
To the threshold of the newlyweds
And contemplate the quantum
Equation of bliss.
Singing, a quilter
stitches fabrics, like songs
word by word by word
retelling gathered tribal
stories told long ago.
Posted by edgar at 2:31 PM