Oldflute Shakuhachi by Rick Wilson
from #47 - Spring 2015
“Yellow grass waves in the summer sun. Monuments to the fallen dot the battlefield as I walk alone on my first visit to Gettysburg. The words of Bashō pop into my head—translated by Lucien Stryk, ‘summer grasses/ all that remains/ of a warrior’s dreams’—and I start to cry. The sadness of the earth, the memories of the fallen, and the words of a seventeenth century poet in Japan all come together in a moment of connection. Separated by centuries and thousands of miles, Basho and I are in the same place. This is why I love haiku.”