Least a tear for Fukishima

I cry for you, dear Fukishima, for you, the earth and the wind.

But, be it known by man that Earth does not brag nor boast or mourn for beauty lost.

You, earth, are the bedrock and the foundation from where I stand.

A deep presence is concealed by your vast landscapes.

Surfaces textured with grass and stone cover your soul, my bedrock.

All the while, you sing from wind-shaped crevices, and hum from a gurgling brook.

Tears of joy gently fall to your surface and lately cries are felt from heaven’s arms.

As we continue to tame your wild frocks.

The land, your land given on lease to me.

Was once understood by the ancients, yet now lie barren.

Are we all but yet exiled?

Out of the reach of our original soul, blind to outer worlds of light and form from where we arrived?   

Least a tear for Fukishima that lays into the ocean, tainting and taunting. 

© Ron McFarland, Highervista, Cowboy Haiku