Ubuntu

The humming stops outside a lonely window.

To see a world of things without the network of meanings lodged in memory. Each strange new entelechy standing alone. Wonderous. Not a faith but a seeing. What terrors! What joys! An inhabited depth, where everything gazes back with questioning eyes.

The faceless clock invisible in the steeple’s shadow pointing to an empty hearse. Tiny fishing boats rocking twilight in an indigo cove. A whiff of roasting lamb mingling the salt air with the fateful oleander. Marble heroes at peace with themselves. And like children, we look into the blank of evening and are surprised. Things seen become feelings ambushed by thoughts. We forget the words, and the sun goes down.

The broken arms of a windmill clatter against the stars that drift across an ink-black sky and fall away. A venerable slowness – patient and benign. The smooth dark waves of sleep. An unfinished perfection. Starfish glowing in a sunken ship.

Modraniht. Tears freezing over grave dew. Snowflakes wrestling an avalanche. Drunk fish asleep beneath a diamond sky wedded to the water’s crystal hexagons. An axel breaking the wheel of life. “It is destroyed.” “It is not destroyed.” And before the Master could explain, both monks pass on. When birds fly by, only a few feathers fall.

Robert Witmer has lived in Japan for the past 48 years. Now an emeritus professor, he has had the opportunity to teach courses in poetry and creative writing not only at his home university in Tokyo but also in India. His poems have appeared in many print and online journals, as well as several anthologies. He has also published three books of poetry: Finding a Way (2016), Serendipity (2023), and Sunrise, in a Rabbit Hole (2025).