ruv

so i was at the hospital the other day, waiting around for my rehabilitation, when i witnessed both sides of the dichotomy that is marriage in japan. there was an older couple, she was dutifully accompanying him to rehab, he was barking at her while she stood in a non-confrontational fashion staring down at her slippered feet. i started scribbling, then began making rhymes and before i knew it i had this. although it's not a pulitzer piece, it does give you some idea of how i see the conservative, traditional unions in japan.

a relationship built on lies, based on truths that aren’t your own.
silent glares, vacant stares. it’s not important if anyone’s there.

the clothes are folded, the children are fed,
disinterest has driven you to different beds.

an existence that’s become strictly functional,
a bond drained of all that’s emotional.

but in your eyes i see no hate or pain,
perhaps it’s liberating you must no longer feign.

the culture of your marriage i cannot understand,
rarely a man bothers to wear his wedding band.

from this current system you can look back through the years,
and see it as a culmination of necessity and fear.

historically because of social and political strife,
later, personal obligations made you my wife.

forfeiting your family and all your personal time
to care for his aging parents and encourage his blood line.

perhaps it’s paralysis based on societal expectations,
perhaps your perceived lack of options mires your inclinations,

or perhaps it’s an arrangement that works very well
to keep society’s cogs turning and make the economy swell.

in any case,
it’s a life sentence i can’t face.

it motivates me to encourage young lovers
who appear to really have feelings for each other.

the conditions are different in the country today
marriage no longer has a strictly practical role to play.

when in the park i see students holding hands,
i’m hopeful the true merits of love they’ll grow to understand.


to be fair, in the same visit to the hospital i saw a couple that's a fixture there. he stumbles along behind a walker on twig like legs as unsteady as those of a newborn calf. she walks backwards in front of him, urging him on. not sure what happened to him, but he was in rough shape...discolored patchy skin, deteriorated muscles too weak to move his limbs. we often talk when we're seated at the same table. it's unreal to watch his tenacity about recovery. he's doing so much better. maybe, as huey lewis and the news would say, 'that's the power of love.'