The Tears of My Mother, the Shell of My Father

by Eugie Foster I did not dwell overmuch upon destiny, living among the priests in Oda, sweeping the steps of the jinja shrine, and meditating at the seashore. Until the morning the Heikegani crab with the face of a samurai etched in its sepia armor came ashore and spoke to me.     As was my habit in those summer days, I had risen…

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