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]
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:
Ouch! But when the dark days come to an end it's time for relief and joy. A nice Haibun Anna.
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.
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.
Heavy subject matter, yet the words create a kind of beauty in the telling.
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*
P.S. Really love the piece. :-)
I loved your write.
A haunting tale! great write!
A lilting, haunting tale of love, loss, and regret. Excellent write.
Good poem, conveying the exact feeling of mingled anger, loss and regret that so often characterises guilt.
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