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Haibun: Grief Work


My grief over my father’s death has become my life’s work. Some days I drink from a bitter cup. Other days I choose to spread my bread with honey. And sometimes I lay myself down on the anvil of sorrows and let the hammer fall, shaping me as it will. Sheer stubbornness drives me to try to understand why a tear leans into the wind, hoping to dry itself; or why the dead enter our world saying nothing, giving neither comfort nor counsel, but simply watching and waiting. So far, I have failed in my quest, but I will not quit. Stubbornness, remember?

Walking through the woods
on an autumn afternoon—
this is song enough.

 
  

Haibun © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
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Anvil

 photo ded46980-b1de-4ea2-b896-ea8fd734e344_zpswk7kpttg.jpg
The smithy, Cattle Track Arts Compound, Scottsdale, Arizona
 


seven ways of frost—
not even the blacksmith’s breath
warms the anvil’s horn

 
Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
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