Shoes stomping on gravel
It's the mark of a shrine
Bowing at the entrance to a sacred location
A red torii - here, free of dye
Two bows
Two claps
One wish
Last bow
Why that order?
Who knows
Yet who can say:
"Let's not"?
Setting foot in a forest
Where Amaterasu once hid
"Where is all the grandeur?" I wonder
This is bare and basic
The holiest shrine in Japan
The most minimal one I've seen
Wooden structures here and there
Small, bereft of frills
Thrills are not to be found, either
Here there are no gimmicks
Only faith and quiet
No need for more than this
"Where are the tourists?" I think
Why am I the only one here?
This place is so important
Yet left out of people's trips
I walk among the locals
Every age is represented here
The elders bow the lowest
And clap the loudest when praying
But students flock as well, once class is over
Running jokes in a place like this
You'd figure such laughter would be inappropriate
But then they pause to do what's expected here
Frolicking the way adults could never
They run, then pause
And turn to bow under the stone torii
Sprinting from an ancient tree to another
Touching the bark the next moment, eyes shut, soul praying
If there are gods
Hear my prayer
I'll tell no one but you
Please, make it better
If you can't
How could I?
Forces larger than me
Known as humankind.
