Thursday 4 January 2018

Guilt



Still dozy with lack of sleep, she looks out through the French doors, and although winter, the garden looks neat and clean, almost fresh, the night’s rain cleansing the detritus that had littered the path, washing it into the gravelled gully and the finality of the drain.

She wishes her soul could be cleansed like that, her sins washed away, for she finds them hard to bear.  She had loved him for sure, oh how she had loved him, still loves him.  He had become that beautiful heart beating away inside her, giving her completeness, giving her joy. 

Then he had left her and despite her pleading would not return.  Broken and bitter she had taken awful revenge, and in destroying him she had damned herself forever, her heart heavy with guilt, hers a conscience that could never be salved. 

Dark days are ending,
spring offers promise of hope,
weeds litter the path.

Anna :o]

Susan has us Poets United has us writing of door(s) – cheers Susan!

Despite reading the prompt yesterday, nothing came to mind, and it was not until this morning, when I looked out of the French doors, that inspiration came.  Please note that the words are pure fiction as I haven’t destroyed anyone – yet! :o]

I did take a pic of said doors and garden, but unfortunately can’t locate the up/download thingy, so the image echoes the haiku.

Image:  Courtesy of  Wikimedia Commons
Author:  Ernst Schütte

10 comments:

Sumana Roy said...

Ouch! But when the dark days come to an end it's time for relief and joy. A nice Haibun Anna.

Susan said...

Interesting that the weed you picked to show is one of great healing, the humble plantain! The poem carries great crime, and yet healing is possible.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

It is amazing how revenge hurts the angry person more, and for longer, than the recipient. You have captured this well in your poem. Happy New Year, Anna.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Heavy subject matter, yet the words create a kind of beauty in the telling.

Magaly Guerrero said...

I've always found guilt to be a waste of emotions. No one benefits from it. The one feeling guilty just dies a little, which the one who inspires the guilt gets nothing to funny looks. I take responsibility, and move on. Maybe the speaker in this piece will do the same, eventually. Besides, the little bastard of a subject probably deserved it. *runs away cackling*

Magaly Guerrero said...

P.S. Really love the piece. :-)

annell4 said...

I loved your write.

Jillien said...

A haunting tale! great write!

The Bizza said...

A lilting, haunting tale of love, loss, and regret. Excellent write.

Jenny Woolf said...

Good poem, conveying the exact feeling of mingled anger, loss and regret that so often characterises guilt.