(Additional reflections on the battle of Ichi-no-tani, March 18 1184)
Renshō awakens
to find the world is
fragile like a dream.
In ages past
he took the lives of men
and youth
he dashed their souls
from their bodies,
the blood ran down his blade
and pooled at his feet.
At Suma Bay; waves pounding at Ichi-no-tani
he looks out across the water
having traveled swiftly
and yet not so swiftly
as to have escaped himself.
In the distance
from the grass field on the hill
a bamboo flute
sounds.
The sweet savor of
new cut grass
mingles with smoke
from the boiling fires.
The flute,
the waves,
the hovering gulls
at Ichi-no-tani.
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