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.
9 comments:
Nora... this is a very heart filling haibun; there isn't much more to be said. Wonderful! _m
what a powerful haibun! All I can say...
great one nora
john
This is a beautiful memorial and picture.
Many warm thanks, my dear friends.
Great work, Nora
I haven't or perhaps will never know the pain or joy of child birth, but still..
wishes,
devika
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.
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 :)
wishes,
devika
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.
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