This poem was written by Gesshu Soku, (1618 –1696) a Zen monk, while on pilgrimage, on hearing of his mother’s death. He was 16 at the time.

There is nothing I can say
about what is between
mother and child.

Hearing of her death,
my life is darkened.

Like a reed basket,
the years wove us together.

In the blank air
the smoke from a single incense stick
is my last word with her.

The best incense - and explanations of incense - I know of can be found at: (Shoyeido has been producing incense since 1705)
and (Nippon Kodo has been producing incense since 1580)