Sept. 2, 2018
On the Ibusuki Tamatebako, eating bento and taking photos out the window of this steam-engine train.
The wooden countertop we sit at is facing the ocean;
behind us is a retro upholstered loveseat, surrounded by a built-in bookcase with glass panels.
We’re passing the sea, where the white clouds meet a milky blue horizon
and I feel my eyes well with something equally fluid.
A blue glow reflects like hot coals
in the core of hazel irises.
We’re on the north shore of O’ahu, and then
passing through a German summer forest
the next moment. I’m here and there.
Who am I thinking of right now?
The family around me.
There is a love that transcends time and space,
and pulls at the tired places of our life
to bring us to a higher point.
Rainer Maria Rilke confides in me that:
such a love calls for us to dance, to sing, to reflect; silently, even.
and question the things we left behind,
and love the questions themselves,
before remembering that they, too, were part of the process of recognizing such a love.
[for Sachiko, Kaori and Takumi]