EYEKU

A few weeks ago I told you all that I had “discovered” haiku after reading Matsuo Bashou’s masterpiece The Narrow Road to Oku. The book inspired me to try my own hand at the ancient poetic art form, though the results were often less than impressive and probably not worthy of being called haiku at all. And so to avoid the wrath of any purists who may happen to chance upon my blog, or any of my poems consisting of roughly 17 syllables, I’ve coined the term eyeku. Therefore, the rules no longer apply to my poems and me, much like the Geneva Conventions and international law don’t apply to Guantanomo Bay and its POW’s—sorry, enemy combatants.

Two days ago, on the spring equinox, I went with Tomoki to one of the biggest shrines in Fukuoka, Miyajidake shrine. It was a fine day; a strong and cool breeze tempered the warmth of the sun’s rays. The first of the cherry blossoms had begun to bloom, and bamboo poles displaying bright banners lined many of the paths that led to the shrine and the gardens and grounds surrounding it. The banners fluttered, and the poles swayed in the breeze, and somehow the two combined to produce a rather eerie sound, prompting Tomoki to comment playfully, “They’re crying.”

Miyajidake shrine was constructed in the 7th century. For me, visiting a place like this always helps to put things into perspective. Fourteen-hundred years of history: I imagine the labourers working together to put the stone steps in place; I wonder at how many people have come and gone over the centuries, at what kind of people they were—peasants, lords, travelling poets like Bashou, wandering swordsmen, regular folk, and the odd curious gaijin or two like me. I wonder at what kind of historical events have taken place there; and then I think of how it has only been about 220 years since Captain Cook and the First Fleet sailed into Botany Bay, to claim that vast expanse of Terra Nullius, which of course we now know as Australia. In the grand scheme of things, and in particular for the aborigines of Australia who have been there for tens of thousands of years, 220 years is nothing but a drop in the bucket. When I look at the state of the aboriginal people today, I can’t help but think what we are seeing is a people still deeply grieving the loss of their land, their way of life, and their independence.

The spring equinox -
At Miyajidake shrine
The bamboo poles cried