Selected Haibun

My Published Haibun - this form of Japanese poetry features a short, titled prose narrative and a related haiku.

Blue Christmas

blowing bubbles …

her spirit soars

skyward

Dainty bluebird-colored bulbs decorate the little blue spruce at the chapel’s front. The introductory chords of “Silent Night” waft towards me. Only a few gather on this dark, rainy eve. In alternate rows of polished wooden pews, we sit holding lit candles. Face masks cannot hide pain. Some weep openly. On white paper cutouts, we scribble names of loved ones and hang the stars, one-by-one, on the Tree of Prayer. Scriptural readings, interlaced with silent pauses, allow time for reflection and contemplation. This diminutive chapel is a safe haven. My heartbeat pulses softly—a reminder that I am still here, alive in the moment.

the burning bowl—

releasing our burdens

to the blaze

[Published December 24, 2022, in the Word on The Street, a publication of Whistle Free Press.]

Beyond the Screen

Standing in the library with a digital SLR camera in hand, I spy a small porcelain figurine nestled amidst spring green fronds in a potted urn. “Ah, it is the Kannon, in a contemplative posture.” I gasp, edging in for a closer look. “Guanyin,” I whisper with delight, “the Bodhisattva of Mercy and Compassion.” I offer a slight bow. My fingers toyed with the Nikon’s f-stop feature, hoping to capture the perfect image. The time is centuries ago in the Song Dynasty, one of China’s most prosperous and vibrant time periods.

Having reached Nirvana, Guanyin has returned to be among mortals to assist them in achieving enlightenment. I feel blessed in my life.

the Nine Dragons scroll

offers a glimpse of forgiveness …

mid-summer fire

Author’s note: Kannon is known as the goddess of mercy. In China, she is known as Guanyin and revered as the most widely beloved Buddhist Divinity.

[Currently published online in Under the Bashō.com]

Silver Linings

storm surge

a winter of broken things

offers new life

Wise ones say the teacher finds us when we are ready. After losing Sis, my life went dark. Melancholia woke up with me most mornings. The 24th of every month brought a trembling. All those occasions where I should have seen her face or heard her voice, she was not to be found.

hindsight

navigating white waters

brings clarity

Weaving the torn edges of my life together, I found a strengthening occur at the thin places. This was such a gift. Sacrifices can become times of growing, more than giving up. Grieving expands one’s empathic sensitivities. When things fall apart, trust the path will open to a new world. Look for fresh meaning. Practice being content in the moment. Let color and vitality fill your well, refresh your spirit, enliven your being. Everything that comes our way and everything we co-create, when fully embraced, helps us grow.

[Featured in Failed Haiku, Autumn 2022]

Always Becoming

true essence

tender heart, generous spirit …

the soul is love

The human condition is love. I glimpsed this reality during the last ten weeks of my sister’s earthly life. As Sis withdrew from material things and threw off layers of life accumulated, there blossomed a spirit of grace, gentleness, and generosity. She became love, wholly and completely, and then … let go the final sigh. Sometimes, one is lucky enough to witness such holiness. It is a gift, a veracity revealed, that is unmistakable and life changing.

in the lifespan

of a magnolia blossom—

journey to heaven

[featured in Failed Haiku, Issue #80, August 2022. Available online at haikuhut.com.]

Flourishing

The lavender prayer card cupped in my palms is penned in a calligraphic hand. Several short verses spark my soul. Before stepping into the labyrinth, I pause to speak the phrases aloud. Walking mindfully at first, I sync my steps with breath. Soon, the rhythm becomes natural. The beachscape is still this early eve, under the near-full Hunter’s Moon. The river is silent. The birds are in their nests.

the edge of winter—

leaves turning and

wisps of woodsmoke

Three bone-colored tarps, stitched together at the wider ends, are pieced together to form a map for the weary soul. Broad-brush indigo flourishes soon give way to deep purple and then lavender as the swirls edge inward to the center. Electric pillar candles are placed at regular intervals. The flames guide my path as darkness drops its cloak.

With each step, the heavy canvas sinks into the sand. I honor the earth, kissing it with each intentional step. My breathing has slowed. Compassion builds within. It is a time of surrendering. A time of leaving the past and future. A time of focusing solely on the Now.

autumn moon rising

the gift of presence

lights up the soul

[featured in the print publication Presence, Britain's leading haiku journal]