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Blood at Hara
- Blood at Hara -
Based on some of my past-life memories…
I stood, within a hexagram etched on the old floor,
Before an altar where stood a large wooden cross…
In the castle of Hara, where I so waited once more:
For God, to come to my soul’s defense at any cost.
For, the Shogun was wrathful, because of our faith,
And brought the armies of his nation to Hara’s gate.
He did not know me, and had never seen my face…
Nor had he need to, in order to indulge in his hate!
It was enough we were different, to warrant death,
In a time of conformity and tradition growing staler.
I would defy such sterile law, until my dying breath,
But my people grew hungry; their skin grew paler…
As we fought off our enemies until supplies ran low.
We were betrayed from within, and from without…
And there was blood at Hara, and a mighty bellow,
When the Samurai came against us with loud shout!
God never answered, so to the Devil I had turned…
Damning myself to return, denying myself a final rest,
As my sword tasted blood whilst the castle burned!
I watched my people die and it pierced my breast…
For I could not save them, despite all of my praying,
And so I could only avenge those who fell so vainly.
The Samurai and their Ninja all came cruelly slaying,
And even Miyamoto Musashi would regret sanely…
His part in destroying the innocents who were killed!
But my hand was as bloody, and not of my accord.
It was the plan of some divinity that so cruelly willed,
Their ends to be at the point of my own keen sword:
Women and children gathered about me, eyes wide,
Begging me to grant them a merciful end, ere long…
There was no place left to retreat to or to even hide.
So I granted them their desire, though it was wrong!
By the siege’s end, my white garments were so red,
That I looked like a demon, and not the angel I was.
I do not remember how many enemies that day bled,
Nor how many friends I sacrificed for our lost cause.
Musashi would not remain, for his honor was great…
And the Shogun could not force him to be a butcher!
But he had taken his share of lives, red thirst to sate,
Before his conscience caused him to feel for another.
And so I never faced him in combat during that time,
For my head beckoned for another’s katana to take.
I faced my remaining enemies with my face sublime…
Knowing they had not any power to, my soul, break.
I died rebelling, against God and against the Shogun,
Vowing to return, because my soul was so immortal.
And it is, for when my next destined life had begun…
My damned spirit came back, through birth’s portal!
Based on some of my past-life memories…
I stood, within a hexagram etched on the old floor,
Before an altar where stood a large wooden cross…
In the castle of Hara, where I so waited once more:
For God, to come to my soul’s defense at any cost.
For, the Shogun was wrathful, because of our faith,
And brought the armies of his nation to Hara’s gate.
He did not know me, and had never seen my face…
Nor had he need to, in order to indulge in his hate!
It was enough we were different, to warrant death,
In a time of conformity and tradition growing staler.
I would defy such sterile law, until my dying breath,
But my people grew hungry; their skin grew paler…
As we fought off our enemies until supplies ran low.
We were betrayed from within, and from without…
And there was blood at Hara, and a mighty bellow,
When the Samurai came against us with loud shout!
God never answered, so to the Devil I had turned…
Damning myself to return, denying myself a final rest,
As my sword tasted blood whilst the castle burned!
I watched my people die and it pierced my breast…
For I could not save them, despite all of my praying,
And so I could only avenge those who fell so vainly.
The Samurai and their Ninja all came cruelly slaying,
And even Miyamoto Musashi would regret sanely…
His part in destroying the innocents who were killed!
But my hand was as bloody, and not of my accord.
It was the plan of some divinity that so cruelly willed,
Their ends to be at the point of my own keen sword:
Women and children gathered about me, eyes wide,
Begging me to grant them a merciful end, ere long…
There was no place left to retreat to or to even hide.
So I granted them their desire, though it was wrong!
By the siege’s end, my white garments were so red,
That I looked like a demon, and not the angel I was.
I do not remember how many enemies that day bled,
Nor how many friends I sacrificed for our lost cause.
Musashi would not remain, for his honor was great…
And the Shogun could not force him to be a butcher!
But he had taken his share of lives, red thirst to sate,
Before his conscience caused him to feel for another.
And so I never faced him in combat during that time,
For my head beckoned for another’s katana to take.
I faced my remaining enemies with my face sublime…
Knowing they had not any power to, my soul, break.
I died rebelling, against God and against the Shogun,
Vowing to return, because my soul was so immortal.
And it is, for when my next destined life had begun…
My damned spirit came back, through birth’s portal!
Published 24th Aug 2012
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