gray May

[goldenlangur]

gray May

 

 

This year on my father's death anniversary I go to work. It starts as a gray May dawn and the butter lamps give the prayer room a glow of gold.

 

 

On the road with the stop-and-start of the traffic and the drizzle I half-listen to the radio:

 

Is it Climate change : this Icelandic volcanic eruption and the early monsoon rain and storms?

 

There's more news of a train crash in India, the Kenyan flower growers ruined by the volcano ash and flight cancellations and foreign tourists stranded in Delhi International Airport.

 

 

At last light there is still a gray pall over the valley and the sun is a haze of orange.

 

 

in dreams

tombs in a churchyard tell of lives

unconnected to mine

and yet I wake up in tears

for a loss I cannot name

[tonyv]

It's an oddly familiar feeling that one experiences on the death anniversary; it's strikingly similar to the feelings experienced on the actual day of passing. Life just continues on around the survivor, and you've captured this effect poignantly in a solemn remembrance haibun. It persists from the gray May dawn till dusk:

 

At last light there is still a gray pall over the valley and the sun is a haze of orange.

The tanka takes it to a universal level. Others have been there, too. The speaker and the reader are not alone.

 

Tony

[JoelJosol]

GL, you help re-create the emotions, the attempt to be distracted and the resolution in the end.

 

I already lost my parents, my brother and own child. But, apparently, in my dreams, they are so alive and there unaware of their death, I enjoy their company again. When I wake up, I transition to a confused state and realization, they are no longer here.

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

wow my friend you captured how i felt after my great grandma died, i loved her very much. she was so righteous and outstanding citizen of the world. she explained stuff in a way i believe god would want us to believe.

 

victor

[waxwings]

gray May

 

 

This year on my father's death anniversary I go to work. It starts as a gray May dawn and the butter lamps give the prayer room a glow of gold.

 

 

On the road with the stop-and-start of the traffic and the drizzle I half-listen to the radio:

 

Is it Climate change : this Icelandic volcanic eruption and the early monsoon rain and storms?

 

There's more news of a train crash in India, the Kenyan flower growers ruined by the volcano ash and flight cancellations and foreign tourists stranded in Delhi International Airport.

 

 

At last light there is still a gray pall over the valley and the sun is a haze of orange.

 

 

in dreams

tombs in a churchyard tell of lives

unconnected to mine

and yet I wake up in tears

for a loss I cannot name

 

I 've never dreamt of tombs, but even if you left out the first line I would affirm the thought in the next two, and how can anyone not share what the last three lines say? You might consider making the first line be the fourth.

 

Thanks for the excellent read.

[dr_con]

Amazing! You tapped the deep feeling of mourning perfectly... A simply excellent piece GL!

 

DC&J

[shadowangel]

~ this is the first I have read here, as I just joined

 

but what a wonderful first read this is...

an impactful piece...poignant...haunting...much enjoyed, my friend

 

*hugs*

 

Sasha xx

[Lake]

All has been said, golden.

What I like is that the personal experience is embedded in a broader setting - the loss of father, volcano eruption, stranded tourists , monsoon, train crash etc.

 

Enjoyed

 

Lake

[goldenlangur]

Hi Tony, JoelJosol, victor, waxwings, Dr Con, ShadowAngel (lovely to meet you! :D ) and Lake,

 

Thank you very much for posting thoughtful comments and also some thoughts for improving this tanka prose.

 

I apologize for not acknowledging this earlier due to work.

 

 

Will return to respond more fully.

 

Appreciate this feedback.

[Aleksandra]

An exceptional piece, goldenlangur. The reader can feel the pain. Excellent!

 

Aleksandra