Moon sits low
above solemn pines.
The night is cold.
As dawn breaks
the geisha kneels, waiting.
Plum tea kimono wraps
her tightly-
white would be right
color of mourning,
color of death.
Her lover, disgraced
has embraced
Death-
blood the sacrifice
to wipe clean a
particular stain.
She to follow
Honor fulfilled,
death follows death
rigid path of decree.
A life mostly of sorrow.
Opening her gown,
she exposes white skin,
her maid, quietly weeps
slides back the shoji
exposing a winter landscape-
white snow on rocks
white snow like her skin
soft, soon to disappear,
one to melt,
one to white ash.
Yes, life mostly of sorrow.
Outside
winter is silent,
no wind at all,
snow falling like silken petals
Ah! She will never see spring
or cherry blossom time!
Floating over muted,
glassine air
comes the sound-
two monks
playing flutes
welcome the day.
Shakuhachi artists,
mournful sound,
sound that brings
peace to an anxious heart.
She bows her head,
picks up the tanto-
and opens the vein.
Blood of her line
answers to that
of another.
Life.
So full of sorrow.
—
Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2015
A tanto is a short knife. A woman would not cut her abdomen (seppuku), but would open the main vein in her neck. She would have tied together her legs at the knees, over her kimono, so she would face death with modesty.