ancient mountain pools

This week's Big Tent Poetry prompt was to write a haibun.

"Haibun, a form that originated in Japan, combines prose with haiku to describe a journey and very often an epiphany. The prose (think prose poem) sections are built around images, and the language is precise enough to capture only the essence of what is being described. The haiku that follow are only loosely connected to the prose."

We traveled from the bustling, urban city to the moist, hot rainforest in less than five hours. The acrid smells and sirens gave way to tropical bird sounds and dripping. The balmy air thickened inside my lungs as I breathed deeply and took in the medicinal scents of the plants and flowers and soil. On the day we traveled to Mountain Pine Ridge, we traveled for nearly four hours from rainforest up a mountain road. These roads are not like roads I know. They are narrow and one-way and absent of asphalt. Our giant, aging tour bus was able to manage speeds of five to ten miles per hour. It creaked and rocked over the pitted dirt roads over hill and dale, up the mountain. I laughed when I saw the sign that said that our destination was not accessible by bus, only by car. Our cowboy bus driver with his shy smile, deep eyes and machete for protection brought us to the pinnacle of paradise, almost by sheer will. We took in the pristine beauty, unlike any vista I had ever seen. We swam in the crystal clear pools and slid on the rocks and gentle water falls into the crevasse-depths of the pure, cool water while the warm sun warmed our skin. Pine trees and pine scent were everywhere around us. We inhaled our delicious picnic lunch, packed hours earlier. Lunch never tasted better. After hours in this paradise, we returned to the bus to find one of the tires flat. In a moment, we went from enjoyment of timelessness to wondering how we could ever get back without a working bus. We had passed a giant, dead snake on our ascent, and its image passed before me. Our location was so remote it would take nearly a day for anyone to come get us, and buses were few and far between. Stanley was able to change the tire with the one suspicious looking spare tire on board. We took the descent, knowing the best was behind us, and when we arrived back at our casita, deep in the canopy of bird calls and greenery, we were grateful we had made it back, with no spare to spare.

the ancient mountain
pools clear water for those able
to make the journey

and

fear and faith
accompany the descent
from paradise

Copyright © 2010 Nan P.