A Suitcase Full of Leaves

She ran, small hand in small hand,
her mouth full with ripe songs,
their fat, juicy words dripping
off her tongue and down her laughing chin.
She sang of long hot days
and smashing melons by the sea.
She watched her brother,
he filled her eyes with light,
he filled her head with sound,
in her world he was Emperor.

Out of the West came a man
and in his pocket was a seed.
A seed to plant in their rich soil,
a seed to raise a tree of fire,
to burn the skin from their backs,
to scorch the song from their throats.
She watched the man,
he filled her eyes with light,
he filled her head with sound,
in her world he was death.

She ran,
her eyes full of ripe tears,
their fat juicy drops streaming
through dry river beds.
She crossed the wooden bridge
and on the far-bank bloomed a flower.
She watched her brother,
he filled her eyes with light,
he filled her head with sound,
in her world, he was gone.

Out of the West came a man
and in his hand
was a suitcase full of leaves.


(The title of this poem comes from the Japanese poetry collection 'Man'yōshū' or 'Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves', this is believed to be a metaphor for 'a collection to last ten thousand ages')