Fuji - San

I experienced you on three occasions

First from above.

I couldn’t believe it.

My memory has painted you

perfect dark

Rising from neon red.

We descended at sunset

The trains became smaller

As we found our way to your foothills

I reciprocated a lily leaning over a fence

and stained my face yellow for a day.

At the festival after setting up our tent

he asked if I wanted to marry him

I stayed at camp, vomiting,

being just nineteen

Emerging with the daylight

I found him dancing

with spirited long haired boys.

The clouds parted and you showed yourself

hazy blue monolith, gentle, stoic

Fuji-san

I followed the boys, bowing low

When I finally met you, I must admit,

I was naively underwhelmed

It didn’t seem like it would take so many

hours to reach your summit

Pilgrims with bamboo staffs

appeared in polite lines

the path an even zig-zag

A pool of brown volcanic rocks.

Each time I took a step

my foot slipped back half way.

I longed to go into the tea houses.

the square fire pit and hanging cast iron kettle

struck a chord in me.

The pilgrims geometrically cosy,

branding their sticks with beautiful symbols

But no, we slept for a while like vagrants

to the side of the gravel path

holding each other for warmth,

A frightening heap in the shadows

There had been a moment of pure mystery,

as the sunset,

alone on the path before the

steady stream of people.

we were at level with the thunder clouds

A sphere of light came out of one,

turned a sharp corner and

travelled into another,

crackling with electricity.

Through the night we climbed

the neat sliding path

The gradual light beckoning us to hasten to the top.

I pitied the horses that had to

haul those stone gates up

Freezing in the middle of summer

We reached your summit

Just in time to receive the warm sunrise

Deep and golden, I gulped it with my eyes

Coming up for breath from my shivering state

Hands clasped around my morsel of miso broth

Lined up as were were in rows of plastic chairs.

Our task thus accomplished

We walked around your crater

Before descending, lighter than before.

Crafting, with the loose rocks

the playful slide of my steps

We again sat by the path

Pulling out a watermelon and knife

offering slices to smiling strangers

The shining morning

enshrineing delight

with our dripping gifts.