Awakening: Haibun

This poem is for dVerse’s Haibun Monday. Frank asked us to write about being pleasantly surprised.

I wake to the pleasant surprise that Doug Jones has won the Senate race in Alabama. The win gives me a tiny bit of hope that people have been awakened, though I am still disheartened by the closeness of the race. Like Daedalus, we could create; like Icarus, we could rise and soar, and we could rescue those who dare to dream but fall, so that they can try again. Instead, we sink into the muck, believing lies and embracing bigotry, ignorance, and greed. My husband and I light the Hanukkah candles. I watch their flickering glow and think of miracles. Later, as I turn out the bedside lamp. I hear geese honking in the winter night. Do they beat their wings to the songs of the shimmering stars? Do they dream of soaring higher? I wonder and think again of miracles.

 

wait for the sea change–

the winds shift and the waves roll

awakening spring

 

Lucílio_de_Albuquerque_-_Despertar_de_Ícaro

Lucílio de Albuquerque, “The Awakening of Icarus,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

 

The Sun Still Rises in The Sky

sunrise_long_branch_new_jersey

Sanford Robinson Gifford, “Sunrise, Long Branch, New Jersey [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

“Full fathom five they father lies,

Of his bones are coral made,

Those are pearls that were his eyes,

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change,

Into something rich and strange,

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,

Ding-dong.

Hark! Now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.”

–William Shakespeare, The Tempest

 

The sun still rises in the sky,

though winter comes and spirits darken,

there is no use in asking why,

when the ground quakes and maelstroms harken,

 

though winter comes and spirits darken,

shifts, sea change, life disarranged

when the ground quakes and maelstroms harken,

not something rich, but something strange.

 

Shifts, sea change, life disarranged,

but wait before we toll the bell

not something rich, but something strange

portends of evil, sighs the ponderous knell

 

Yet come brightness and come hope

there is no use in asking why

must gropers grope, the slippery slope

the sun still rises in the sky.