I remember Nanao.

The week began with a day spent driving to Taos with Carol and Jeff.
I'm almost sorry for not knowing "my" history, but we learn.

I can still see Carol's long, sandy hair draped into the Rio Grande
And then swung back, dripping with the surrounding purity.

When we saw each other again it was while standing in a pink hue
Of a sunset penetrating the whole landscape before the Bout.

I had no idea a blind child was involved.

A friend of a friend, an American girl,
Was even named after him.

I remember how Aaron and me knelt beside him as he sang
The ABC'S in English and then belted out the Japanese equivalent
In the throaty playfulness of an ancient chant.

Aaron shared some haiku, and Nanao exclaimed,
Those aren't haiku! They're not in Japanese!

We looked into each other for awhile, and that was it.

Earlier that evening he had finished his reading with Star Bikki.
Other than that, there was nothing else to think of.

The titles to his books alone changed a life.

Peter said that he was a walking spirit.
I only know him as well as I know myself.

Today is not a sad day.


Avon, NY Dec 25, 2008