Fallen leaves carpet grounds in ambers, except for those that hold on limbs for dear life. Parks are barren, missing squeals of youths and laughter among families. Park benches are abandoned by lovers, both young and old. Autumn’s melancholy mushrooms over time as winds blow mockingly. Suddenly, temperatures rise to unseasonal heights with warmer days, oh! so short-lived, teasing all things living.
Indian Summer squats
basking under sun kissed skies
Mother Nature lies.
A Pleiades is a 7 line poem created by Craig Tigerman. It is named after the stars in the Pleiades star cluster in the constellation Taurus. Each line has 6 syllables and begins with the same letter – which is the first letter in the (one word) title.
lolling on nature’s bed
look-up to the heavens
long for lavish showers
lustrous stars flourishing
left speechless and breathless
lamenting for lost souls
lust filled stars shimmering
~
(Haibun)
Every year in mid-August, they used to lounge on the ground…two couples, heads touching looking up to the sky, pointing, shouting and alerting each other of a shooting star. All night long eyes caught in the sea of Pleiades that cool summer night. Year after year, it was a ritual at the camp by the lake. The children stayed up with the adults until midnight. The parents stayed up until four in the morning, not one bit of tiredness for their conversations between shooting stars sightings they bonded as adults, man, woman, mother, father, husband wife and sailors.
~ August Perseid
lay in wait on dewy grass
counting shooting stars
Birth and death, to me, are more similar than different. That first moment you learn you are going to have a child, you go through many emotions. You are shocked or surprised; you are in denial until you accept the fact you are, if you are someone who had not planned this and perhaps inadequately prepared at this time in your life, be it at 12, 16 or 20 years old, for example. You may be bargaining with your higher power or yourself that it could be a miscalculation or you may be a woman who has been trying to have a child for years. Maybe you do not want to believe it in case there is an error and you will be grieving a loss of that hope once again. You may even feel anger or guilt or both if it is consequences of a rape, a party gone bad, a foolish mistake…take your pick. Even if the pregnancy is planned, there are moments of sadness, of saying goodbye to the life as you knew it, the freedom and the fear of having an innocent being dependent on you for the next two decades or more. Every life transformation starts with saying goodbye to your past before hello to that new beginning.
Acceptance can be anytime throughout the gestation period or once that baby is born. And that very day you know that you are treading on unknown territory even if you are happy. That first child, the awkwardness and fear of not getting it right is ever-present. The apprehension mixed with the acceptance of this reality come together ….your new beginning.
I cannot help thinking as I am grieving my mother today, hours before that time she passed, relating death to birth or a new beginning. I am reliving each moment I was by her side that morning, afternoon, night. Even if I knew she was frail and consumed with dementia, the death…that total loss was a new sense of aching emptiness. It was shocking in the sense I had no idea I could feel this much loss at first.
As I sit here hours before her death a year ago, I cannot help but playback moments of that long day. I couldn’t go to work today…called in sick as I knew I would be of no service to youths or young adults in crisis…my soul was tired and my heart too fragile. I thought it would be the day of her passing I would feel this intense loss and need to revisit those last hours we shared together in love… symbiosis.
When I think of the time of her death being just minutes after midnight, it would make sense to be mindful of the day before. My mother would also retell me every year hours leading up to my birth which was minutes after midnight as well.
Thinking back on the births of my two children, I cannot help but be reminded of the day before they were born because those were the preparation hours, things we did not quite realizing when those babies would peak their little faces to the light and out of that warmth.
Every year I relive those moments before my children were born as I do for my grandson being present then as well.
Holding my newborn son years ago, I remember wondering (even if I was happy and had been waiting years to have this first child) how I will cope in this new beginning. Will I manage? Will I be good enough? What is ahead now is new territory I had never experienced before firsthand.
When you lose someone you love deeply, as I am feeling with my mother, I feel somewhat similar feelings…that awkwardness, self-doubt on how I will manage through the rest of my life without her. Not being able to phone her, visit her, tell her how much I love her…thank her for loving me and giving me so much all her life. No, this is new terrain at any age. It is a new beginning of a life motherless, fatherless as well…a new experience as the next generation to pass on and see myself in that new role.
As I think of birth and death, the same exercise goes on in my mind…reliving those hours before that first cry, that last gasp.
(troiku)
Birth and death time before a milestone engraved forever
birth and death
ground breaking
both preludes
time before a milestone
unfamiliar ground
flashing by
Her mother was a sun worshiper and loved three seasons for the warmth of the sun; the budding flowers in spring, summer sun turning her skin golden and the lush colours of autumn. Winter was not her favourite season. She loved Christmas for her children and grandchildren; New Year’s Eve was a ritual to watch people celebrate at Time’s Square. No, winter was a season she could easily skip.
Every time family and friends phoned her in winter, she warned them to stay home and not drive on the slippery roads. Winter was a time to sleep and hibernate like a bear.
Winter starts to show off in late autumn here. By mid-November there have been a few snowfalls. That early Monday morning in December, her daughter phoned to check up on her mother’s failing health…it was time, the nurse said.
Summer visits on these sacred grounds, loving friends and families rest in peace. Weeping willows adorn the gardens among the birch and evergreens like special spices turn her grandmother’s turkey stuffing outstanding.
Today she visits her mother’s place of rest setting a poinsettia at the grave site. December 2nd will be one year since she left to join her step-father. Now they rest together, resuming their love story of yesteryear. The bare weeping willows and birch stand silent in respect for those who rest. The sun sets as she chants her mantra softly.
They kneel around his bed whispering their prayers. Seven children and the youngest seventeen holding back his tears, showing a brave face. The golden spaniel whimpers on the floor. His wife holds ice chips to his lips. Propped up with pillows, facecloth on his forehead, he looks at his loved ones, he smiles and sighs, “La lumière blanche…que c’est beau!”
Walking home late a night one would think she should be frightened. But not tonight with the light of that bright moon. The moon was almost full under a clear sky. Tomorrow it will a perfect circle but she didn’t take a chance. “What if it rains? What if the sky is filled with snow clouds?” No, she would not take a chance and tries to capture the greatness of this moon. The air is cooler than the past few weeks and it smells like snow should be coming very soon. Yes, at minus 4C the next precipitations would surely snow.
She removes her leather gloves to manipulate her smart phone to take the photo. It is nippy and she can see her breath blow white smoke. On this long dark street filled with old warehouses of the 1940’s slowly transforming into funky lofts.
November full moon was called Full Beaver Moon or Full Frost Moon since it was a time when Native Americans would set their traps before the swamps froze.(Farmer’s Almanac)
Click…and off she continues on her journey home. Seconds before arriving, she notices her shadow in front of her was a fatter version of her, to her right was a paler shorter shadow and to her left a tall stretched out version of her. No, she has no reason to be scared on her walks home…she definitely has plenty of company.
Setting up traps
before water freezes over
Beaver Full Moon
Beaver Full Moon
accompanies her home
lights up her path
Our host, Chèvrefeuille, at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai explains that “Tengri” means ‘sky worship’; haiku is part of Tengrism … look around you …. see the signs of nature and read them … just read them.
On her walk Sunday, she was attracted by the sounds of hundreds of birds chirping in several trees. Her head up she sees flocks of birds flying south. What were these birds doing in the trees. It was nippy that day as well with very cool winds. She regretted not having brought an extra sweater to put under her spring coat, better still, her winter coat would have been a much wiser choice.
So many birds were flying past this tree filled with birds. “Perhaps they are resting before flying further south,” she thought. She stopped to take in the concert and listen to the birds harmonize. Such wonder to stop for a moment and breathe in nature’s richness, even in a big city!
A collective birds plan their long journey gathered together
gathered together sort out their pecking orders, sing in harmony
sing in harmony she listens with reverence, nature’s grace
© Clr’15
Tournesol dans un Jardin 