i wasn’t there
when izumi’s tears
flowed like mountain
streams spilling swollen
banks to cascade down
silky milk-white cheeks
better suited for kisses
and i didn’t hear
as anguished sobs
cracked the night
and wracked her delicate
frame surrounded by
strands of long black hair
hacked short from grief
but her ancient
words carried me close
enough to feel
her little girl’s funeral
bell — though any
chance for comfort
was forever out of reach.
for izumi shikibu
