Friday, February 13, 2009


In the spring of 1993, I was nearing the end of my second pregnancy with a daughter. As she once again dug her heels into my ribs, I was able to clutch her tiny heel through my stretched flesh for a few seconds. It was a precious near-meeting in the bright world outside my womb where I knew and held all of her.

My thoughts turned to my son, the firstborn, whose tiny heel had been pricked countless times and whose burial booties had been far too big. Could he be as nearby as she with only a translucent membrane or mime's wall separating his dimension and mine?

the rising fog--
all that divides us
all that binds us

Published in Contemporary Haibun Online.


Magyar said...

Nora... this is a very heart filling haibun; there isn't much more to be said. Wonderful! _m

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

what a powerful haibun! All I can say...

John McDonald said...

great one nora

Marty said...

This is a beautiful memorial and picture.

nora said...

Many warm thanks, my dear friends.

Devika said...

Great work, Nora

I haven't or perhaps will never know the pain or joy of child birth, but still..


nora said...

Thank you, Devika. From your comment, I see I could have as easily written "the pain of loving/the joy of loving"

If it is your wish to become a mother, may it be so.

Devika said...

Thanks Nora for that :)
but frankly speaking -- I do not want it happen anymore--- I doubt if I may not live long enough, really

But one can always love children who are born to others, and this world has so much children who need love and care

and I do have quite a few coming to me to spend time with me :)

Just sharing :)


diana l. said...

So this is haibun. What an introduction. I am crying at the beautiful power of your free-associations, your spare use of words, and the depth of your insights.

Thank you.