Friday, July 9, 2010

Haiku my heart

i am so sorry
wishing i could stop the pain
knowing that i can't

Two very sad things happened this week.  Early in the week, one of the special education teachers passed away of a brain aneurysm in her classroom. She had two children under the age of five. The thought of that fact is almost too much for me to hold on to.

The second thing is this morning my best friend told me her father died.  I am heartbroken for her.  I am of that age- where parents pass away.  It is hard to find a friend wth two living parents.   I am so blessed that both of my parents are alive and at this moment healthy.  My mom battled cancer last year- but emerged cancer free... but I constantly worry.  I want my children to really know their grandparents. 

Sorry for the sad post.  Guess that is where I am today.  I need to find ways to move out of this sadness and into a place of thankfulness.  Anything can happen- which is why it is so important to always make sure that those in your life know how much you love them- and to try very hard to not take life for granted.

More Haikus- and hopefully much less depressing can be found at the lovely Rebecca's blog


10 comments:

Faerie Moon Creations said...

So sorry to learn of these losses. I, too, am at the age where losing my parents will become more and more of a reality. It's something I often choose not to think about. And you are right - cherish those in your lives each and every day. :) My thoughts are with you...Theresa

Spadoman said...

Sending positive energy your way. It is Haiku the heart. Your heart is sad and has a right to be. You've expressed it well. Thanks for sharing your sadness with us.

Peace.

turquoise cro said...

In my prayers to ease some of the pain! ((((Caya Papaya))))

Greyscale Territory said...

Your post is so beautiful and a wonderful reminder to us all to remember to value the ones we love daily!

Namaste!

Uma said...

Your haiku is beautiful, more so because it's straight from your heart.

rebecca said...

dear one,
i was here last night when i returned home from a long taxing day. i was just too tired to offer you the acknowledge and encouragement i felt welling up in my heart. i carried you in my thoughts as i went off to bed.

i love spadoman's comment. truly haiku my/your heart.

this morning i visited elizabeth as her blog beginning with A, is the first on my blogroll.

what she has posted is perfect for you, me, all of us.
so i will share it here...i hope it speaks straight to your heart.
thanks for being here.

Things I Didn't Know I Loved: After Nazim Hifnet


I always knew I loved the sky,
the way it seems solid and insubstantial at the same time;
the way it disappears above us
even as we pursue it in a climbing plane,
like wishes or answers to certain questions—always out of reach;
the way it embodies blue,
even when it is gray.

But I didn't know I loved the clouds,
those shaggy eyebrows glowering
over the face of the sun.
Perhaps I only love the strange shapes clouds can take,
as if they are sketches by an artist
who keeps changing her mind.
Perhaps I love their deceptive softness,
like a bosom I'd like to rest my head against
but never can.

And I know I love the grass, even as I am cutting it as short
as the hair on my grandson's newly barbered head.
I love the way the smell of grass can fill my nostrils
with intimations of youth and lust;
the way it stains my handkerchief with meanings
that never wash out.

Sometimes I love the rain, staccato on the roof,
and always the snow when I am inside looking out
at the blurring around the edges of parked cars
and trees. And I love trees,
in winter when their austere shapes
are like the cutout silhouettes artists sell at fairs
and in May when their branches
are fuzzy with growth, the leaves poking out
like new green horns on a young deer.

But how about the sound of trains,
those drawn-out whistles of longing in the night,
like coyotes made of steam and steel, no color at all,
reminding me of prisoners on chain gangs I've only seen
in movies, defeated men hammering spikes into rails,
the burly guards watching over them?

Those whistles give loneliness and departure a voice.
It is the kind of loneliness I can take in my arms, tasting
of tears that comfort even as they burn, dampening the pillows
and all the feathers of all the geese who were plucked to fill
them.

Perhaps I embrace the music of departure—song without lyrics,
so I can learn to love it, though I don't love it now.
For at the end of the story, when sky and clouds and grass,
and even you my love of so many years,
have almost disappeared,
it will be all there is left to love.


--Linda Pastan

rebecca said...

dear one,
i was here last night when i returned home from a long taxing day. i was just too tired to offer you the acknowledge and encouragement i felt welling up in my heart. i carried you in my thoughts as i went off to bed.

i love spadoman's comment. truly haiku my/your heart.

this morning i visited elizabeth as her blog beginning with A, is the first on my blogroll.

what she has posted is perfect for you, me, all of us.
so i will share it here...i hope it speaks straight to your heart.
thanks for being here.

Things I Didn't Know I Loved: After Nazim Hifnet


I always knew I loved the sky,
the way it seems solid and insubstantial at the same time;
the way it disappears above us
even as we pursue it in a climbing plane,
like wishes or answers to certain questions—always out of reach;
the way it embodies blue,
even when it is gray.

But I didn't know I loved the clouds,
those shaggy eyebrows glowering
over the face of the sun.
Perhaps I only love the strange shapes clouds can take,
as if they are sketches by an artist
who keeps changing her mind.
Perhaps I love their deceptive softness,
like a bosom I'd like to rest my head against
but never can.

And I know I love the grass, even as I am cutting it as short
as the hair on my grandson's newly barbered head.
I love the way the smell of grass can fill my nostrils
with intimations of youth and lust;
the way it stains my handkerchief with meanings
that never wash out.

Sometimes I love the rain, staccato on the roof,
and always the snow when I am inside looking out
at the blurring around the edges of parked cars
and trees. And I love trees,
in winter when their austere shapes
are like the cutout silhouettes artists sell at fairs
and in May when their branches
are fuzzy with growth, the leaves poking out
like new green horns on a young deer.

But how about the sound of trains,
those drawn-out whistles of longing in the night,
like coyotes made of steam and steel, no color at all,
reminding me of prisoners on chain gangs I've only seen
in movies, defeated men hammering spikes into rails,
the burly guards watching over them?

Those whistles give loneliness and departure a voice.
It is the kind of loneliness I can take in my arms, tasting
of tears that comfort even as they burn, dampening the pillows
and all the feathers of all the geese who were plucked to fill
them.

Perhaps I embrace the music of departure—song without lyrics,
so I can learn to love it, though I don't love it now.
For at the end of the story, when sky and clouds and grass,
and even you my love of so many years,
have almost disappeared,
it will be all there is left to love.


--Linda Pastan

rebecca said...

dear one,

i was here last night when i returned home from a long taxing day. i was just too tired to offer you the acknowledge and encouragement i felt welling up in my heart. i carried you in my thoughts as i went off to bed and promised to return in the morning fresher..


this morning i visited elizabeth as her blog beginning with A, is the first on my blogroll.

what she has posted is perfect for you, me, all of us.

take a visit to her blog

a moon worn as if it were a shell.

you will be astounded!

i am holding you in love and comfort.

apinkdreamer said...

sorry for the bad news!!!
i love your art!!!!

Melissa said...

I am sad that you are journeying through a sad time. My 70 year old friend is having a scary operation this morning. This is the thought that I hold:

Death is not a bad thing. It is sad thing, but at the same time wondrous and sacred and part of ALL of our journeys. It holds immense wisdom, tenderness, and peace.

You will make it through this time and come out wiser, stronger, more in touch with yourself, others and the beyond. So will those you love.

I pray that you are granted a peaceful heart while you and those you love find grief as your companion.

~tears are an entire ocean, all on their own~
Melissa

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