It’s Friday again. Feel free to respond in haiku.
Autumn wind
strips leaves
from a broken branch
Friday haiku 3
Reply
Tag Archives: aging
Out of the wild
My poor broken child,
Has life been unkind?
Is there no one to lift you?
Your time, it’s true, was dark
A world of silhouettes, cigarette smoke,
A place where light faltered,
Intimidated, burdened
With the smell of whiskey.
The wind blew tough at night,
When only fear lit the path ahead.
So here we are, the last of us,
Swizzle-eyed and weary,
Our wounds only for imagining;
I find these signs vexing.
Into the night with us, then
Let’s take what we can carry,
Let the rest decay.
Age
When I was young
I had a strange notion
of old age
as if a butterfly
would pine
for caterpillar days
Out of the wild
That time was dark
A world of silhouettes, cigarette smoke,
A place where light faltered,
Intimidated, burdened
With the smell of whiskey,
The taste of luxurious defeat
Swilled like fine wine gone sour.
The wind blows tough at night
When only fear lights the hollows
Of something like despair.
So here we are, the last of us,
Swizzle-eyed and weary,
Surviving escapees from
What can only be recalled dimly.
I look in the mirror and ask,
Was that really you?
We live, not moment to moment
We live, not moment to moment,
but in a single eternal moment,
soft and unyielding, like splinters
of destiny,
songs in the heart of the universe,
unheard, unhummed,
but by the small almost still
vibration of unseeable things,
now real, now gone,
now magnified to deathless
breathlessness, beyond, finally,
all knowing.
One day, we’ll fly there on
wings of dying, spread ourselves
across the native sky
like phantom snow.
exiles child 