Goraiko

The arrival of light
Is what the Japanese call
Sunrise from the summit of Fuji.

I learned this four hours ago, below the tree line
When the air was still moist, the slope gentle and loamy.

And is it true that a wise man climbs once
But only a fool climbs twice, I asked our guide.

知らない, he replied
I’ve climbed it thrice — this week
And drew deeply from his cigarette.

Goraiko, you know, he said much later, it’s also a feeling
Like maybe gratitude for being in that place
When the light arrives.

Those were the last words I remember
He’s gone ahead after the others
Chasing the dawn with alpine sticks and headlamps.

And I am here 
In the dark and the rocks
Just past Station 7
Burning from the cold
The altitude sickness
Six hours from daylight
Eye level with Venus.