I’ve traced my way back

to Shoren’in temple

on a pilgrimage

to the places we’ve touched.

Here, you were

all the full moods of the day.

You left your ink wash marks,

your bright and dark strokes

in these narrow wooden streets,

the way passing rainstorms do.

But by the time we reached

this garden of cool moss

and whispering stone,

we were both calm.

After the squalls of love,

these soft moments with you,

in which you were more receptive

than dark inviting ponds,

these were the moments

I slaked my thirst in you,

these lulls between

your gorgeous summer storms.


Copyright Ricky Barrow 2014


2 thoughts on “Pilgrimage

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