at the sixty-ninth station

(after hiroshige – stations of oi)

here at the sixty-ninth station
of the gregokaido road
i have a sense of completion
that is not completed yet

the long journey to this moment
has many disparate paths
fragments of people within me
have stuttered their broken mantras

what a bowl of uneasy pieces
litters the well of my bed; my name
doesn't know how to welcome
tomorrow with its single demands

this christmas will say goodbye
to the last traces of middle age
the sere's banners will be ready
to set off on its late procession

i have not gathered myselves together
with anything like that composure
wisdom and age should concoct
i have lost control of my strivings

christmas a game of new birth
the light giving hope to the dark
i wish i had the will to recover
the young coals that kept me bright