Aokigahara
Aokigahara
In nature’s cradle slowly drowning
Upon the moss they wait for breeze
In front and east, a snowy mountain,
And amidst the graves there are the trees
Surrounded north by Saiko Lake
obscured by Fuji’s hoary caps
A forest spawned from nature’s wake
With drastic change as time elapsed
Ensconced with caves of Ice and Wind,
and glazed in coarsened grit and ash.
The air as dense in shadow’s tinge
With fissures cleft by violent flash.
A maze of twisting trees and moss
A certain spine of tiered mishaps,
as bodies hung like forlorn dross,
their hopes of a real life kidnapped—
like a child’s doll, sordid and lost,
opened eyes gawked at hemp swung ropes,
Gazed up high at God, they accost
And explain to Him of jilted hope.
Each step beside them did bemoan
And felt as if though summoned home
The ground was coiled with chthonic stone
Each crag and root a sad syndrome
In flames blazed perpetual twilight,
Roofed by a mottled sea of green
they strode the path with string and light
And witnessed rope-like guillotines
They tied the strings to mighty boles
In hopes to end from where they came
To firm expose the heart and soul
Of Aokigahara ’s forest name.
Their minds did wander upon approach
As towards their backs a mountain faced
Their souls weighed down as they encroached
To tragedy and human waste.
A muted soreness beseeched the skull
And begged such hearts to turn around
They’d crossed the plane where lives were culled
where spirits fade without a sound.
Then dying suns sustained by strings,
began decent and edged on dusk.
And seldom swayed macabre sting
Laid unto ash where loam was thrust.
In piles were bleached and sharpened bones,
Gnarled like boughs they’d mingled with
An old flip flop and some undertones
forsaken in these monoliths.
They strode on paths, beneath the trees,
The ones bent in like canopies
Their bark misshapen from disease,
No sound pervades; no wind or breeze.
The woods were bathed in quietude
The chasms smoldered emptiness
The lonely pith of solitude
that stroked the lungs with heaviness.
Breaths became a roaring wheeze
in tacit blankets thickness loomed.
A muffled snow fell from the trees
In echoes like in different rooms.
No bird or deer had roamed its moss,
As though they shunned or feared the place
In rotting dreams some came across
a relic from the Lord disgraced.
Some followed other ribbon hues,
To end up near such blighted souls
Cross by cross with grave miscues,
These endless trees did take their toll.
Tis said, forgotten relatives,
Were dumped here like some parasites.
They looked so plainly skeletal,
And were led here as to reunite—
But mainly they were toss-away’s
A process labeled as ubasute
When usefulness had seen its days
They’d leave them there in solitude
And as they died in tainted soot
And altered into vengeful ghosts
Their minds a haunting resolute
Would lure those in and get them close
The forest then would take the weak
And sing to them a lullaby
The option became so widely chic
As death was standing so nearby
Though guides were made for suicide
And those woods was named the place to die
Most went inside to wane and hide
And disappear without a cry.
- A Moment Away - June 21, 2023
- Wall Fly Reporting - June 21, 2023
- Promises Kept - June 8, 2023
Beautifully penned Paul of this well known forest where people go to die. I can’t imagine what the place would now feel like, with all the tragedy and death it has absorbed from life. And all those strings, supposed to mark the way back, but never did. Lovely work my friend.
That has to be so sad knowing that some of those strings are going to lead to someone’s end. So much pain must loom over this forest. The one thing i would love to see would be the Ice Cave. Thank you so much Tony.~Paul
Such a sad, forlorn forest. Great work on this famous forest, Paul. Your verse is fascinating.
Thank you so much Phyllis. Take away the death and this forest is fascinating. Trees grow above the soil because the roots cant penetrate the hardened ground, the moss serves as moisture and sustenance, then there are the multiple caves of marvel, Ice, Wind and one they called the Shield of Rain. Too bad so much death haunts this place. Thank you so much again Phyllis.~Paul
Nice topic to take on Paul – I also found myself captured by the eerie strangeness of this forest and have an essay published on my other site http://www.thegypsythread.org/2016/06/17/aokigahara-suicide-forest/
It’s such a sad place, but your words describe it perfectly in poetic form
Thank you Ralph. I really enjoyed your essay as well. Aokigahara really is a sad, sad place.
Thank you for the poetic journey into this unknown forest. I have heard of tales of people dying there. Really nicely penned and I could visualize it all.
Thank you Rasma, its sad how so much intrigue and beauty can be tainted by sadness and death. Thanks again
awesome read, not sure that I would like to go there though….the sadness that dwells there is probably overwhelming.
The sadness here reminds me of “The Never Ending Story” where the “Sadness” was encompassing everything in sight. A very microscopic view of where and what exists in this place, and for the most part very well done. I enjoyed reading, however a little lengthy for these aged eyes of mine!
Japan have been always fascinating to me, and here You showed me another side of its magnificence, though not in the splendid gorgeousness of Cherry Blossoms, if anyone came to doubt Your poetic ability, read this to them, I’ve never met anyone who is able to draw words into images, and go down all the road the way You do, Exceptional piece dear Paul.
P.S, somewhere between Your images, I sensed Anjana’s pen, speaking of her, did You hear anything from her?
Yeah this forest is creepy. Another side of Japan hidden in the dark. I truly appreciate your extremely kind words. As for Anjana i have not seen her grace my pages in a while. I hope all is well with her. If she does happen to stop by i will tell her you were asking for her. Thank you again my dear friend.~Paul