In the Blazing Heat of August

The summer sun beats down,
Tears dry before they fall.
Not dramatic enough to weep—
Still, I am left hollow.
One I called a mentor departs,
And I remain, uncertain,
Heavy-hearted in the heat.

In Japan, they say that spring is the season of farewells. Yet for me, it has come in August, when the air itself clings to the skin with oppressive weight. A person I could call a mentor—someone who gently watched over my soul’s slow recovery—has left the workplace.

It’s not the kind of goodbye that tears one apart, nor do I weep. And yet the sorrow hangs like heat haze. I feel unmoored, not knowing what to do.

I shared almost everything with this mentor—there was little I kept hidden. But I never asked them much about their own circumstances. I don't know if they are one of us, fellow travelers on the same spiritual path. Still, I can only hope we may someday meet again in the Pure Land.

Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu...