LAMENT

I did not know then when I was capturing and killing bugs like a god,
when I was scampering about in Nature
when I moved through a hidden passage in the hill, by a shrine in the field,
ducking under akebi vines, stepping on ferns
through a field of sedge, to come upon a hill where the sun moved like in the movies and I saw a ship sailing in the distance
when I tiptoed through a grove of sumac, chasing cicadas all day long, climbed onto a branch, looked over the sea of leaves, saw the sky and the brilliantly shining sun, and closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the branch

when I ran through the dusk
timidly yet proudly like a jockey,
always alone, with a rope in one hand, with a basket tied to my waist
though I had been told of kidnappers and mountain ogres,
I had faith in my quick feet, trusting that no one would grab a simple happy kid,
while sharing my mother’s worries. I did not know then

I did not know then when I pushed and elbowed through the thickets
of bamboo grasses, butterburs and ferns under pines and citrus shrubs
surprising a peculiar bird, chasing black butterflies, swatting down swarms of purple beetles and gadflies;
and when I finally found a wan pond
where reeds stood on the water’s edge, quietly and subtly waving in the wind
where not a single water strider was swimming, not a thrush was around that afternoon

I did not know then: the big pond at the foothill was filled to half its size
to make a road; fish were floating belly up; a small feeble hill was being shaved down
no one could answer where the road led to. Everyone said, “No idea.”
I did not ask any more questions
I played at sword fighting with the bigger neighborhood boys, waving about bamboo sticks for swords.
I missed my step and fell off the cliff that evening — the frogs were making a lot of noise

when I snuck out to join them for a swim in the river. To get my soaked underwear dry
I pressed my behind against the bumpy face of the sun-baked stone wall, or lay face-down on horsetails, looking glum.
when a girl and I played doctor, got into a closet
did things in hiding for half a day, and the maid found us finally, and giggled.
I did not know then,
God, I did not know.

I was praying: May all people live for a long long time
Big people, streetcars, and buildings were wonders to my youthful eyes
in a place of surprise,
I remembered that my eyes sparkled when I spoke of hope
in the garden
where I was an impish little kid

I had doubts about them being like me
People lied, but I was not like them
I did not understand why some paths were taken
but I did not question them; because if one failed
I knew there would surely be something better
in those days —

Once I wished for happiness for all people
that each would receive the plenty
of this earth
Once I believed that war would now end
that the people would sing of peace
in this country —

Ah, when I was ignorant, no one taught me
that big people are so ugly, that the world is so foul
that humans have so much to lose. Never.
Now, drained of the color of blood, you crouch in the dark,
my frozen soul!

LAMENT