A Letter to my Obutsudan | Home is where the Buddha is
Contributed by Devon Matsumoto
A Letter to my Obutsudan
仏様へ、
How is it that you stand before me? Your image radiant, while the box you stand in aged and weathered by violent winds of the American dream.
How did you survive all these years? Grandma said you were built by hand over a hundred years ago, but the senseis say you have lived for thousands of years before that. Will you live forever?
I have heard the stories from Grandma about how they had to hide you. Was Grandma scared when they came for her? She was just a child. Grandma doesn’t really talk about it. Were you scared when they came for you? I heard you protected them all.
Are you sad that we hide you after all you have done to protect us? Are you angry that we hid you behind a cross and an American flag for our own protection? Do you hate us for giving you a white face? Can you still see yourself after they raped you? Is forgiveness something we do?
They take and they take and they take and they take, then ask us why we don’t want to give.
Is forgiveness something we do?
Grandma said that her dad built you a special room after they were released. Was it better than the basement you hid in? Did he build it so you would never be taken from them again?
仏様、are you the keeper of our stories? The only time Grandma talks about her life is when I ask her about you. Will you keep my stories too?
That box you stand in, why do the doors never close? Don’t you get tired of watching us? If I were you and lived a thousand years, I would be tired as fuck.
仏様、今疲れた。
Gassho,
Ho Ryu
