Looking at the writing prompt for this piece it seems the inspiration behind it, to me and others if I read them right, is a sense of loneliness and, perhaps, regret. This thought like led me down the path which didn’t necessarily produce a “traditional” poem but one that falls, I think, solidly in English haiku style.
The more connected we are via our devices. the more disconnected we become, I believe, from “life”- those closest to us (physically), the beauty and wonder of creation and all it offers, and our inner self, the creative, imaginative part of “us”, among other things.
In a wireless world
We’re constantly connected
Yet feel so alone
Toward the end she was sick all the time, often laying quietly, resting as well as she could considering the relentless pain she was enduring. Her husband, a huge, strong man, felt helpless; there was nothing he could do to help her, and little to even comfort her .
As she slept on the couch, curled up under an afghan she’d crocheted before the cancer had taken over, he got up and ambled over to her, as quietly as he could. Softly he stroked her now thin hair and whispered under his breath “Poor little thing.”
Her voice, seeming somewhat less frail at the moment, startled him at first, “Poor, big thing; quit ‘yer frettin’ over me”, she replied. His big, warm smile spread across his face for the first time in a very long time.
Lifelong lovers – now
She seemed a shell of herself
Yet was still in charge
A strong, witty, tough, yet gentle soul, my grandmother was, I say with loving bias, truly one of a kind. Having been raised on a rural farm, in a large but poor family, she wasn’t particularly refined but she was filled with charm and grace. Of average stature, she could certainly seem intimidating when she had to, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use that skill when needed. It was hard to see the way cancer ravaged and slowly destroyed her body. This robust woman of barely 60 years old reduced so quickly to a shell of her former lively self.
Vivid blooms healthy strong stems
Blight wilts overnight
This haiku/haibun is dedicated to my Granny; her name was Iris.
Linked to CDHK challenge #720