What is it? Something sought by everyone? Suddenly it splits me in two.
I feel free to walk anywhere, at least for now. I stride over the distant past.
Sometime ago, in a silence stronger than soy beans popping in the pan.
Hope? Waiting for footsteps? Perhaps to become a Heian court lady
surrounded by a screen of illusions waiting for some prince?
Or is it the prayer of a wife in war-time, anxious for her man in the field?
Don’t say it rises like a spinning wheel without hitting all the rungs.
Is it resolution? The blazing blue fame of mothers secretly resisting their patriarchs?
But I can’t get by on that alone. Why not simply break out?
I only have to get the rhythm down to fly through the day to day.
Like a pilot, astronaut I too am in a capsule, though.
Women Poets of Japan
K Rexroth & Ikuko Atsumi