At the dojo,
men and women in blue kimonos
wield swords and long sticks (jos).

A priest chants monotonously
from the Sutras, punctuated by
loud hand claps. Guttural shrieks
erupt from sparring partners, as
blades flash in the light and stop
inches from vital body parts.

Nobuko, an aged woman moves
gracefully as a ballerina across
the floor, weapons a natural extension
of her body, outmaneuvering all.

My grandson, a novitiate
looks on in awe. He must learn
to hold the Buddha’s energy within,
the perfection of a lotus blossom,
to cherish it like a bird in the chest
that sings of morality.

He must learn they are not here to kill,
but to strive for patience and balance,
like the heron that stands on one leg,
waiting for a glint of silver in the pool.

To use with grace and fluidity,
the beauty of his body to deflect anger,
let it go like smoke borne on the wind.

 

• a centuries old Japanese martial art
focused on Jodo, the art of wielding
a four foot staff to defeat a swordsman.