The year is ending.
The cold of this last night, 2009,
Is sheathed in a warmth that comes with knowing
Everything is all right.
Hasedera, home of Avalokiteśvara,
Draws us in like grey whale might krill.
A large paper lamp illuminates the gate,
Bleeding a red not often seen.
The leaves have left the trees,
And rest not on ground,
But in bags for garbage collectors.
Some rinse their hands in water,
Some take pictures,
Some bleed their youth, warming older hearts.
All love being here at this hour.
I join the other souls up stairs
To where Kannon has lined her nest
With scraps of detritus
Found washed ashore below,
Those fragments of dreams
We have lost throughout the year.
Everything comes together at Hasedera tonight.
Everything is all right.
At your feet,
Candles form whirlpools of light,
Heating your hands and face
With just enough lumens for me to take
A picture of your hopeful face
Without having to spoil the moment in a flash.
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