Writing on behalf of the judges, Competition Organiser Karen Lee Tawarayama comments that this , “A vivid account of the atmosphere surrounding Gozan Okuribi, the final Buddhist festival of the Obon season, touching on the accompanying deep, bittersweet feelings of those who have lost precious family members within recent months but must let their spirits go until the following year’s visit.”

Okuribi
by Lisa Wilcut, USA, resident in Yokohama, Japan

perfect timing, isn’t it, the rain letting up like that
        I’d almost given up
still, you almost can’t breathe, it’s so humid
        but it’s better up here
mmm, a little breeze
        wait, I’ll get some beer
 
ahh, that’s just the thing
        itadakimasu
and that one? drinking two, are you?
        for your mother, ne
I have to look away, the tears.
        Kaa-san, kanpai! he says, raising both glasses in the direction of Otani
—the darkness kindly hiding the pain I can’t hold back.
 
This year, our first to welcome her at Obon.
From the hotel roof, the spirits nearly 
palpable in the haze that
hovers over the city like heavy gauze.
 
ah! Daimonji! it’s lit, it’s lit!
        look, look!

The kanji shape, a nascient glow in the distance;
small lights, set apart, slowly growing 
brighter
until the whole shape burns
glowing, shifting in the wind, burning up the air.
 
great idea, watching from here
        mmm -
        His eyes fixed in the distance.
 
look, look!
 
Straight ahead, the next fire starts to twinkle,
myoho, for the lotus sutra.
that’s my favorite
        ah, so?
the two characters, snuggled up like that
        mmm, suppose so
 
Next, the boat, then the left daimonji.  
Why do the fires move left?
Buddhism usually moves clockwise.
 
And finally, the torii. No, don’t light it 
just yet. Not the last one. 
Okaasan, don’t go. Stay, just a little longer.