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.