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Living Things

The weeping willow, despite its name, its curtain of low-sweeping boughs, does not weep over what is lost,does not grieve.

after her death
watching the rain
meeting the river

Beneath the bark, a layer of living cells divides and multiplies, expanding sapwood and heartwood, stretching the bark until it cracks and sheds to fit the new girth.

laughter lines—
the scar around my breast
faded now

Growth: out into the world, down into the dark earth, and up into the light.

Contemporary Haibun Volume 10
Red Moon Press 2009

Comments

  1. a beautiful haibun on death and renewal. you have such a delicate touch. I learn a great deal from writers such as yourself.

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  2. Thank you, Dalloway. It means a lot to me to have feedback like this.

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  3. Very strong haiku.

    all my best,

    Alan

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  4. There is so much here, this really merits re-readings. You've singly encouraged me to take a closer look at haibun. I used to only give it a brief glance in the magazines I read, now I'm lingering.

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  5. Thank you Alan and Jem.

    This haibun emerged after I'd been struggling to contain what is now in the prose in a tanka!

    And it made me think even more about subject matter and form, and how the first often dictates the second.

    Lynne x

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  6. Reading this again, and this is a wow paragraph for me!

    Beneath the bark, a layer of living cells divides and multiplies, expanding sapwood and heartwood, stretching the bark until it cracks and sheds to fit the new girth.The whole haibun is wonderful and shows its strength through its "re-readibility".

    all my best,

    Alan
    The With Words Competition 2009.

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  7. Thanks so much for coming back to this, Alan. To know that someone has returned to read the work again is a wonderful thing.

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  8. excellent haibun. Love the rain on the river haiku and it's parallels

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  9. Thank you, Dave. I really appreciate you taking the time to comment.

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