My hand scribbles “good luck”s and “all the best”s
on sweating paper that cringes in stress.
The words are weightless and their meanings
fade into whispered wishes that accompany
red ribbons tied on sacred willow trees.

Giving them out will feel like burnt paper offerings
Tossed into the wind;
Tokens of repentance and plea
that serve nothing
But to beg the mercies
of unhearing deities.