for Big Tent Poetry Prompt: Haibun
For an explaination and examples of Haibun go to:
Throw-away child is not born, but made, formed by words of others. “Why must you always exaggerate? Why can’t you be like the others? Your anger is inappropriate, therefore wrong. Why must you ask so many questions? Because that is just the way it is and there is no point in fighting it. You are bad for disagreeing with us. Why can’t you just accept it? Shut your mouth, we don’t want to hear your ridiculous views. You embarrass us and that hurts. You think too much. Blind faith is all you will ever need. Why can’t you at least try to get along?”
wind rustles through trees
loosening leaves that drift down
where spotted fawn sleeps
Throw-away child gives birth to restless spirit. Always moving, always seeking acceptance. Develops an outside reach, becomes outsider, even to herself. Tries to conform, but it breaks something deep inside of her. Begins to live on if-onlies: if only she looked more like them. If only she had black hair, not soft curly brown. Wasn’t so short, and didn’t hear what wasn’t spoken except in body language and tone. If only she didn’t see so differently. She begins to shut down from confusion found in mixed messages.
bear sleeps through winter
sweet dreams of rich dark honey
Middle-aged, she finally hears voice of the child within her. Seeks forgiveness for her ignorance and fear. Sits to watch as child dances through trees, to music she makes with her own movement. Introduces woman to her friends: furred, four-legged, and feathered. Teaches woman to hear other voices, to see in a slide glance, what others deem irrelevant. Gives laughter and love with ease of knowing. They walk together now, hand in hand, sing in couterpoint harmony, words with meanings they have discovered. Feed one another, grateful at last, to find that the world has lost, not one, but two throw-away children.
dark against vibrant colors
two eagles soaring
Aged now, her arthritic body moves slowly. Has learned that alone is nothing to fear. Aloneness has come to mean warmth and soft-shared laughter, as she curls herself to rest, knowing the child breathes there, always at center of her being.
Elizabeth Crawford 9/24/10