It was March. She made seven consecutive weekend trips to
and from cancer, driving two and a half hours each way. In between she thought
of little else, moving through stages of grief . . . mostly denial and
negotiation. By herself, she lit candles
and prayed. In his presence, she was light and made him smile. Her façade was
cheerful and her heart was brave and strong. In the small tin-can car, with its
four-speed stick shift, she listened to music to alleviate the distance of time
and space. It was a good car stereo. She had invested in that above nearly all
else. One day in April, two weeks before he passed, her car hit a patch of ice
on the rural road. She spun, and spun, and spun, with no one to witness it but
her, as the psychedelia of Pink Floyd’s Sheep
filled her ears. When the car stopped, facing absent oncoming traffic, her
heart pounded louder than the music. She drove the remainder of the trip in
silence.
after the spin-around
suspended and still --
everything was
different
Copyright © 2012 Nan P.
Written for We Write Poems. Thanks, Neil, for using the prompt, and for the timely and gentle nudge to remember to write.
[Process notes: I'll admit I have been in a bit of a writing funk lately. Just when I decided to hang it up for a little while, I happened to notice that We Write Poems was using a prompt I had submitted back in October. I had actually forgotten that I submitted a prompt idea. It seemed like I couldn't not participate in my own prompt, especially since I find haibun interesting. So, this pulled me back into writing at the moment. I decided to further explore something that actually happened back in 1988. I have written about it once before on this blog, and thought it might be interesting to move it further into a realm of poetic expression. The distance from it helps me appreciate the experience as a defining moment.]
10 comments:
At first I was unsure if you maybe have been referring to a personal bout with cancer- but linking back I figured out that it was your grandfather. --Your writing comes in and out of focus in a good way-It captures the ebb and flow of letting go. The spin out added to the disorientation. The addition of knowing you were listening to Pink Floyd's Sheep, only compounds what that must have been like! And although I am not really familiar with the haiibun's I really like this form! Great write.
A bitter-sweet haibun. I'm glad you were inspired to start writing again. And that you survived that hair-raising spin!
I liked your haibun very much. Life, and death, and losing interest in life, and hunger for life - all of this in such a short piece.
Thank you, Nan, for this prompt.
Everything different indeed. Very nice.
Those heart-stopping and difference-making moments change us forever.
Haibun: Nature’s Songs
Unique journey for the form and movingly written. I'm glad you rose out of the funk to craft it.
yes, music is very important.... i like the idea of being shaken up until there is nothing left to shake... and when one stops shaking things are altogether different... beautiful...
Hard subject, written well, nan. Like the revelation haiku ending.
very vivid and heart-felt! beautiful haibun, nan!
♥
This came across as vivid recollection. Thanks for letting bubbling creativity take over.
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