hosts: Shalini Pattabiraman & G. Akila
28th April
Contagion
I stitch the seams of a DIY face mask and think about my grandmother. Over a century ago, she dipped bedsheets in Lysol and hung them in a sickroom doorway where she brushed against them each time she passed in or out. Inside, a four-year-old boy lay stricken with polio. Outside, four little girls, ages 6 to 12, kept house as best they could and looked after their newborn sister, who would become my mother.
My grandmother was fond of saying ‘adversity is the diamond dust heaven polishes her jewels with,’ and she tried hard to teach me to recite prayers. I preferred the German cuckoo-clock counting out the hours on her wall and the Japanese silk kimonos, radiant with chrysanthemums, that lay folded in her chest—gifts from a little boy who survived polio and grew up to join the military and travel across the globe.
family photos I shelter in place
Jenny Ward Angyal
Photographs are repositories of memories as are many other objects that establish a significant link to our association with people, time and space. Where do we come from, or where do we speak from is a deeply thoughtful question that intersects across many roles and relationships to arrive at an answer. What is your answer to these questions?
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in haikuKATHA monthly journal.
Everlasting I look at the silver framed picture on my desk. Two men, one older than the other, are laughing in the photo. The older one is my father-in-law and the younger one, my dad. It is a precious moment from my marriage 35 years ago. After all “a picture is worth a thousand words.” autumn eve- still a bouquet of forget-me-nots
Feedback please🙏
Just wanted to add Shalini that I loved this prompt as I've loved all of them and the piece came whole in the middle of the night. The original haiku was
time to fathom
the truth of black holes
a grandson's gift
I altered it after hearing what Sean said whic made complete sense.
How like an Angel ...
A small framed picture of a haloed Child, upright in his crib, surrounded by the animals,domestic,farm and wild. Flanked by a pair of seraphic beings,fair of face,soft-sculpted wings protruding from each back,two supple arms outstretched for perching birds.
feather at a fingertip a trace of song
Gifted by a godmother, this painting, sometimes placed for all to see, sometimes hidden,always somewhere in my home from far back as my memory extends ...
far side of the pane
end of thread a dandelion seed
still quivering
NB: title is from first line of a poem by Thomas Traherne
Revised version #2
(Thanks Shalini, Kala and Mona)
Infusions Leaving for the hostel after a weekend break, she takes both my palms in hers and raises them to her face. She inhales slowly and deeply. "Mmmm, coriander and heeng! This will sustain me all of this week…"
migrating stork
a little soil
on each claw
*********************************
Revised version
(Thanks Shalini and Kala)
Infusions As she leaves for the hostel after a weekend break, she takes both my palms in hers and raises them to her face. She inhales slowly and deeply. "Mmmm, coriander and heeng! This will sustain me all of this week…"
…migrating stork
a little soil
on each claw snow dust —
she seasons her sambar
on the boil
******************************
Infusions As…
Have reworked my haibun taking Akila's tip for ending it at the first haiku. Thanks everyone for all your valuable inputs.
#Revised Final Version
Eternal
Appa slides his hand under his pillow and extracts a black and white photograph.
“I found this when I was going through some old stuff. Do you know who that is?”
He points to the beautiful, young woman in the picture.
Mother. But not the mother I know. This was before she married Appa and had me, my sister and my brother. Before she was ravaged by the asthma that we three grew up watching her suffer from. The asthma that took her away from us.
a water bead
at the tip of a leaf...