Today started off with death—hunters with a pack of hounds passing on the other side of the stream. Gunshots and laughter. Me, stomping out to shout at them to clear off, me ready to punch somebody in the face. The day hung on a thread, saved by having all the children for this last day of the holidays plus the eldest’s partner, a day of family, laughter without killing. But it’s always there, the ugly side of human nature and it makes me unutterably sad.
This haibun is for the dverse prompt about faith.
Faith is not something I possess, if faith means blind belief. Nothing is inevitable except death. Each moment is to be taken and tasted, rolled on the tongue, each element savoured as if it were the last, the only. Each smile, caress, loving word is a gift, not a right, and thunderclouds hang beneath every horizon. Springs fail, summers stillborn pass by in cold and wet, and sometimes, the winter will not loose its grasp. Nothing is forever; all is change, and I watch the new leaves uncurl hoping that all the rest will follow in the hoped-for course, anxious as a mother watching over a sickly child.
River runs green
algae, silent poison flows
in this clear wound.