A Response To Kihachi Okamoto's Sword Of Doom (1965) Poem by Daniel Brick

(II)

The samurai, Ryunosuke, speaks:

There are so many ghosts my sword has
given to death's kingdom. They gather
around me, shove their bloody faces
into my face. But I have left fear
far behind me, sometimes I see fear
leering at me. I growl and send it
packing! Then I drown myself in sake,
and fall into a troubled sleep. I wake,
I shudder, I grab my sword and hold it
against my heart. One beats, the other
is still. That is the nature of things.
You cannot change this reality. Can you?

A Buddhist monk confronted me. People
were watching. I would not be held up
to ridicule. I sent him packing,
and the others. Later I found the monk.
He expected to be killed. His eyes closed
to the flowers of spring, he braced himself
for the death-blow. Instead I dropped coins
at his feet, and walked slowly away. I want
people to be confused. I want them to feel
no one can understand me. I want them to stay
away from me... If they knew how I live
while others die, they would be compassionate.

But I will not allow their compassion,
I turn my back on them. I join in no games,
pretend I cannot hear theirs greetings,
sleep alone, night after night, and
drink sake until I pass out. Then
I cross paths, in my dreams, with men
who are from another dangerous clan.
Or I am enveloped in a swirl of women -
their perfume, their silk kimonas,
their laughter, their promise of
pleasure. I push them away, I go away.
This life has become tedious, is it worth it?

My sword, my soul, is all that matters. That IS life.