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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
More Sunday’s Whirligig #239
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #3 at Poets United


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This week’s Sunday Whirl words: prison, cloak, become, lens, goods, cash, pursuit, skirt, wild, Venus, beloved

~~ 1 ~~
Her skirt of ashes—
even the monks turn their heads,
amazed at the sight.
~~ 2 ~~
wild in the ruins—
children smearing their faces
with dust and ashes
~~ 3 ~~
sifting the ashes
of old sorrows at midnight—
her fruitless pursuit
~~ 4 ~~
Is the only bread
this crust made out of ashes?
Prison fare at best!
~~ 5 ~~
Ashes cloak the town
as the mountain blows its top—
~~ 6 ~~
only seven days
until the ashes become
the man she longs for
~~ 7 ~~
stories old men tell
about dry goods sold for cash
crumbling to ashes
~~ 8 ~~
beloved ashes
soon to be buried at sea
cradled by the waves
~~ 9 ~~
Are these flakes ashes
showering down from Venus
on the prophet’s head?
~~ 10 ~~
lens focused on ants
reduces them to ashes—
schoolboys’ whoops and caws

© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem: “Ashes”
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 138