Friday, November 15, 2024
One day on a River
I ride the donkobune with care,
strange boatman in his white happi coat
in traditional kimono greets me,
smiles, utters words not understood,
he gestures where I should sit.
He uses his long bamboo pole,
pushes, stirs and starts the hour long journey.
He navigates the canal with care,
knows each turn as he has done
a thousand times, with different
faces, color or weight. He does not care.
He blabbers continually, probably narrating
an important tale of samurai bravery
or of a beautiful maiden bequeathed
to a mortal as told in lore – all lost to me.
Going underneath a long bridge
he breaks into a song, with a melody
more peculiar than its words.
how can the still waters be so clean,
I wonder. Nary a paper cup nor plastic
can be found anywhere. It does not smell
like I am used to with the esteros in my own land.
Just majestic, willowing trees
calmly listening to the breeze.
Then, an egress perched on a tree
flaps its wings as if to welcome me
to his abode.
I traverse the canal with nameless
strangers, oblivious of my existence
as I am of them. Just like the river and
everything I see and experience.
All I get to do is wonder - if anything
concrete shall be retained in my head.
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