So many losses and bitter ends in this bleak season, she’s lost count. Trying to please one may leave others in bitter deprivation. Impulsive actions, even with loving intentions, become too many blunders that add insult to injury. Communicating regrets is now worthless falling on deaf ears; broken hearts are just too hurt with feelings of abandonment harden over time in bitter stone.
tainted with despair
and broken promises
tears filled with regrets
rubbed in old wounds
Walking through the thicket, the woman stops a moment to admire wild daisies. It is mid-day and the sun is commanding nature to acquiesce to her splendid rays. Birds perched in the shade of their home are silent as they embrace their afternoon siesta except for a few chirps from fledglings resisting their nap. And then, the concert begins…from tree to tree sopranos tell their story while another group sing the refrain…piercing sounds mesmerize and finally the last of the fledglings give in to their lullaby.
spellbound cicadas take centre stage nature listens
The woman crouches slowly, taking a picture of her subjects; she smiles at the effect the soft wind has on the flowers. It appears the daisies are waving and smiling with their golden centres boasting towards the sun. And then, she freezes…
At Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, our host and mentor, Chèvrefeuille gives us a spiritual meme where we can choose among four photographs for our inspiration. They are A young mountain monk, Laughter, Time Flies and Tranquility. The image of a clock depicting how time flies is what inspired my haibun/troibun but more than just time flies…how a split second experience can imprint forever in my mind. The blue butterfly visited me from April to November, 2015 following the death of my mother December 2014. I have never seen such a constant presence as this beauty before or after. I know, deep down, she was helping me in my grief.
And now the memory of my experience with the blue butterfly brings me such joy…
I feel such laughter in my heart, imagining the daisies also chortling…like the monks in the photo our host has given us. By the time I had completed the troiku(a new form of haiku created also by Chèvrefeuille), I felt my whole being washed with a sense of tranquilty. So, I suppose I was influenced by all four photos and left with a lingering sense of wellbeing.
Perhaps I was also the young monk from the mountain observing the memories of my youth…my mother and the blue butterfly.
The body remembers, they say. Last night after dinner around eight, her lower back was aching. They had just finished a birthday dinner one day ahead. Her son was born the following day at noon. When her guests left, she put an ice-pack on her back and rested on her comfy couch watching a new series “The Crown”. The series caught her attention in so many ways since her mother had her children during the same era Queen Elizabeth did and she was born in 1926 like her mother. Watching the children in those times, the fashion, the cars, brought her back to her own childhood. Reminiscing back and forth from her youth and bouncing back to when she gave birth to her firstborn was a memorable way to end her evening.
She remembers, long ago, that soft throb coming from her lower back every fifteen minutes on her lower back and increasing with intensity over hours until she realized after midnight that this must be the beginning of her labour. Who really knows when it’s your first?
Perhaps it is true…the body remembers and her backache was a subtle reminder of the joy of giving birth today to her son, thirty-eight years ago.
years go by seem to vanish in thin air like a shooting star
years go by
babe to boy to teen to man
seem to vanish in thin air
time at a standstill
like a shooting star
beyond the milky way,
how time flies!
Daily Moments November 7, 2016
To learn how to write a Troiku which is a new form of Haiku, Chèvrefeuille, who created this form, explains it on his blog Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
The first time she visited Niagara Falls, she was a teenager, visiting him. Returning thirty years later, brought back old wounds not quite healed. The falls were famous for honeymooners and lovers but that day, they were more…
rumbling falls pouring out her soul mist shielding tears
above white ruffles
pouring out her soul
melting cruel memories
softens the heart
Blogging from A to Z is ON!! I will be using this challenge sometimes, as my Daily Moments to write waka…either a haibun, troibun or simply a troiku or cascading haiku…
Two days of rain and I still refuse to let that shade my mood when azure skies were so breathtaking Easter Sunday…ah to sit on the deck at my daughter’s home and pretend I was 30 something and the kids were little. Me on the deck worshiping the sun, the kids in the sandbox…life was so darn simple then or that is what I feel thinking back. Was it really simple? I sure enjoyed relaxing and even dipping my bare feet in the sand. Making mud pies was fun too!
(troiku) feet soaking in mud feeling such simple pleasures precious memories
feet soaking in mud
twitching toes giggling
feeling such simple pleasures
warmth of golden sun
in that azure sky
The past whispers as she honours her sibling’s birthday; sitting by the water she inhales a hope for spring despite the ice covered lake. She feels her mother’s presence and together, they bathe in sun’s glory. She remembers how her uncle enjoyed ice fishing too, in those little cabins spread out on the lake. Ah those brave souls… fishing was only part of the experience, he used to tell her. That was not that long ago it seems. How important it is to embrace precious moments that become treasures stored for later.
squinting at the sun,
gems bouncing off the snow,
memoirs of times passed
She was so blessed. How many people can say they were loved and nurtured by two mothers? She was born a bit early…just could not wait for spring. Her mother, Colombe, would visit her family every day off work which was Sunday and Monday.
It was Monday and Colombe felt so much energy that day. She was on pins and needles. She pushed the sled with her two year old all the way to visit her sister who had just gave birth to her third child, a girl, named Maryline and lived next door to their parents. Colombe had chosen that same name for her baby if it was a girl so she felt a bit annoyed that she would have to choose another name. Marilyn being the most popular name in the 50’s.
Later at almost one in the morning, Tuesday, March 9th, Colombe gave birth to a baby girl, in her mother’s bed…
her first cry
safe in both their arms,
baby girl loved
(c) Tournesol ’16-03-06
Daily moments, fleeting thoughts on this Sunday, March 6th 2016