Dear Readers, I have a haibun first published in NatureWriting, in May 2018. The second version found its way into Contemporary Haibun Online that October. I'm grateful to you for following my work!
Sacred Space: A Tokyo Haibun
In 1926, one-hundred and seventy acres were planted with evergreens to surround the inner gardens of Meiji Jingu, the shrine built to honor the spirits of the Emperor and Empress, the last rulers of Tokyo's Edo period. A forest fragment spilled over a fieldstone wall that separated the shrine’s inner gardens from the Emperor's parade grounds. The wall undulated, banked, and bordered a grove of Black Oak and Pine sprawling below an expanse of lawn below our neighborhood. The park-like sanctuary of woods and wall that lured me felt sacred and austere. It felt like freedom.
Photo credit Tom Barry - the duplex we lived in between June 1961-1963 showing the slope down to the woods and wall.
It was an easy sprint from our two-story unit to the woodland where I dwelled in fantasy like a forest druid, often roaming alone amidst mossy earth, ancient bare roots, and boulders, and on the rough dirt paths, under a domed canopy in summer dappled light, and bare winter chiaroscuro. I might be met by sleek, giant, divine Temple crows, Karasu, whose caws and scolds showed their cleverness. Calling loudly to each other, they did not intimidate me. In Japanese tradition, they bring love, luck, and gratitude.
Cicadas, Higurashi, Japan's “symbol of summer”,gripped rough bark, andclimbed with tiny claws, waiting to slip from their papery brown shells and fly off into the woods with raucous buzzing. My explorer friends and I released the empty shells that clung within our reach and attached them to our shirts like threatening badges. We had neither pen knives nor sweethearts but peeled the scaly cambium scars of others to revive carved hearts and initials.
Yoyogi Park
The military-dependent enclave of stick-built structures that rose during Occupation on the Emperor's parade grounds, smack in the middle of downtown Tokyo was called Washington Heights. Before demolition began in 1963 to make way for the Olympic pool and stadium, my father was transferred to another installation on the city’s outskirts. Yoyogi Park was restored to glorious grounds and gardens.
Really descriptive imagery - I like this line: "I might be met by sleek, giant, divine Temple crows, Karasu, whose caws and scolds showed their clever nature."
I spent some years living in South Korea and I miss the Summer sounds of the cicadas there as well. The sheer number of them makes for quite a loud concert for a brief time.
Really descriptive imagery - I like this line: "I might be met by sleek, giant, divine Temple crows, Karasu, whose caws and scolds showed their clever nature."
I spent some years living in South Korea and I miss the Summer sounds of the cicadas there as well. The sheer number of them makes for quite a loud concert for a brief time.
Gorgeous prose, Mary Ellen. Puts the reader right there in the midst of this atmospheric memory.