Midnight ... 

by M.V., Montana

Ippen hovers at the foot of the bed,
fuda in hand, rags for clothing,
a warm smile.

After gassho his eyes meet mine.
I can hear him although his lips are motionless;
he whispers "You own nothing...don't pretend otherwise."

I accept the small strip of paper from his fingers,
Japanese characters on one side, English on the other.
It reads "If you can't surrender, you'll break like uncooked spaghetti!"

I smile and bow and then he is gone.
In the morning I will awaken in some forest,
Ippen and Shinran sitting side by side eating noodles.