Hallowing Loss
Haibun
A hornet struggles in the air, slow to fly off after a fruitless search under the deck table. Emerald leaves on a barren peach tree doomed to the saw tremble in the slightest summer breeze.
My throat catches. I remember so much. A mother’s glazed stare, a sneer that almost becomes a scowl. A father’s sigh, a fallen face courting despair. The endless outrage in the tension-ridden frowns of critical co-teachers. All of these losses that I refuse to hold, and refuse to cast away.
Then I recall Rumi’s blessed counsel, and shudder, crying dry tears:
“Close your eyes. Fall in Love. Stay there.”
blue sky
another caressing breeze
on my skin and hair
more by FRANK J. TASSONE
photograph by Kelsey Krajewski
