Constant Companion – Haiku
Regret clings to me,
Ever whispering the words,
“If only you had…”
Good morning angel
Here is some banana bread
With softened butter
I woke up early
Today is a special day
It is our next day
The birds sharp whispers
Lift you from your nights journey
Bring you back to me
What could this mountain
Clear, green, and cast in dawn’s light
Have in store this day
As I watch you wake
It does not matter right now
It’s a fine morning
The house smells of bread
And you and night and puppies
Coffee and whipped cream
Good morning angel
Here is some banana bread
With softened butter
My Church is Sunday Yoga
The glory of the sun
So bright that blinds
It’s pure essence
Of power and beauty
My feet dance among
The dew kissed grass
Joy and praise
Danced along the laugh lines
Of my face
The earth bestowing around me
It’s plentiful grace and kindness
A testimony of love
Dotted among the wildflowers
A reminder of earth’s
Creation and fertility
Electric energy radiating
From the utmost tips of my fingers
Cupping the energy of life around me
Toes tinged from supple dirt
My arms and legs extending
In opposing directions
Creating an inner fire
Stillness and gentleness
Folded in with power and grace
From my central being and light
In a darkness
In a darkness, before morning light,
I heard the first one call out as though
for my ears only:
whip
poor
will.
The rasp
of memo-
ries,
that happy
ache,
will
go for years–
the
weight, the
time,
always slow and even
as a
beautiful
sharp
thought. This is a
mean
world.
~ Erasure of page 225 of Elizabeth Strout’s novel Oh, William!
The cartographer was specific,
the minutes and seconds
of degrees most precise,
as were axial and cardinal points.
And the path, quite unmistakeable,
with modes of transit obvious,
season or clime of no matter,
not even day or night a factor.
So where did we go wrong?
The message was surely clear:
Here be monsters.
Yet we are all alone.
You startled me today.
Dialed your phone by accident,
because I just don’t think I’ll ever have it in me
to delete your number from my favorites.
It was that sudden, harsh burn in the back of my throat
and the way I had to take the nearest turn into an empty lot
and my eyes pouring out months and months without you
that made me realize how it’s a lie told to the grieving
that time heals the wound, that it gets easier,
because today I got startled
and I’d give anything to kiss your cheek once more.
