A Journal of Quiet Mornings-Revisited
(haibun)


In quiet morning death came, shattering the silence. Tears were left to dry on the cold face of denial. Numbness grew... invaded... penetrated... consumed. Soft words of forsaken sonnets were rendered ugly and accusing....

from ashes to dust
breath stills in contemplation
of faith's betrayal

In quiet morning I cursed fate. My anger became a living thing, stealing the breath of my soul and the pulse of my heart. Oh, how I blamed! No one or nothing was immune to the scathing tongue-lashings.... the bitter words of unforgiving sorrow. Even God I cursed. How dare He turn from me this way! I trusted him and He betrayed me!

cold empty silence
stealing screams, smothering cries
needing to be heard

In quiet morning I knew guilt as my constant companion. 'What if... ' and 'Why' were like a cancer that destroyed sanity, cruelly mocking memories. Questions without answers became the food of my existence, and still I was starving. Dying.... yet unaware.

darkness continues
time journeys, unrelenting
a soul lies barren

And in those quiet mornings time passed. No announcements. No acknowledgements. Sorrow's comfort held me close. I stayed hidden in shadows of grief. Anger had given way to reluctant acceptance. Guilt softened its grip but still waited just at the edge of reality. I was finally beginning to mourn. Finally I was able to cry.

of sad reflections
blame and anger, guilt's release
from sorrow's prison

Now in quiet mornings I watch the sun rise and I remember. The loss of you still stings as the wounds continue to heal, but the love of you is like a balm to my being, to my soul, and especially to my heart. You wake with me, and you breathe with me. You laugh with me and cry with me.

certain, without doubt
spirits and hearts remain one
even after death

In quiet mornings I still miss you...and love you. But life does continue. So must I continue living it even though I will never understand the 'why' of it. You would have it no other way because you loved me that much too.


© September 2005
Rev. 2008