Kumori - Journal Entry 6
I know you are long dead. I have been gone for a thousand years, and so I know that you have no doubt revolved around the Great Wheel several times since last I heard your voice, or laid eyes on your fair face. I know that our son is doubtless dead and traveling the Wheel as well, along with all our family.
I yearn for you no less today than I did the day I left with my cousins on this mad venture. I have been harsh to your memory, I have refused to think of you as you were when I left, instead trying to only think of you as dust and bones, to force myself to accept the truth of your loss. Like considering my own death, I thought it would make me braver in the face of my weakness. But it has not worked. You come to me in the night, love, a phantom of love and home, and your voice tears a hole in my heart more surely than any sword or the fang of any beast. When I pass through the markets of these barbarian towns, I think of how you would laugh at the wonder and strangeness of them. I catch myself thinking of how I will tell you of the sights I see. And then force myself to picture your gravestone. But the image will not stay. There is something unreal about it, though I know it is unavoidably true.
I tell myself, and my companions, that I am making this quest for my nation, for our people. And that is true, as far as it goes. But my love, I must admit to you what I cannot admit to the living: I remain on this quest also in the blind, foolish hope that when I return to Kaidan I will somehow find you. You always called me a cloud-walking idealist, neh? I took the name I go by in these lands partly in honor of that label- you would laugh to hear my friends call me “Kumori,” I am sure.
I have taken brush to paper to try to exorcise your spirit. To drive away my longings for the scent of your hair, the touch of your hand, the sound of your whispered voice at my side. I know now it will not work. You will not leave me until I see proof you are gone, and so I will struggle in vain to drive your ghost away.
-Sonoda Torakage no Minamoto, called “Kumori”