Thursday, September 29, 2022

Wild Dandelion Dreams

I get lost in Pluto’s remaining eye; not the planet, but the red-eyed black cat a friend crafted out of a story by Poe. I stare until my pain blurs the feline’s smirk. Still, my mind can’t ignore what the Cecilios are cooking for dinner—wild dandelion greens with vinegar and garlic, by the sour smell and weediness of the flowers’ screams.

The Cecilios are good people. They took me in, and treat me well, after so many other foster families had used faith and fist to beat their demons out of me. I just wish they could sense the dandelions’ suffering.

I close my eyes, take deep breaths, and begin building a stone wall between my facial expressions and the flower’s hurt. I dislike dulling my perception of their feelings—if they have to endure the agony, the least I can do is acknowledge it—but if the Cecilios think me mad, they’ll throw me out before I can offer any help to anyone.

When my wall feels sturdy enough, I walk back to the Cecilio’s home, thinking, Rest in peace, little sisters, I promise I to find a way to reclaim your spirit. 

I stumble when I reach the Cecilio’s kitchen. My wall cracks under a wave of phantom heat, and the garden of terrifyingly hopeful voices that whispers through.

“We hear you, big sister,
dreams and blooms burned in their dark
will sprout in your light.”

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #46: Different Points of View (the prompt asks for one piece of poetry or prose written from two different points of view. I chose to combine the two in fictional haibun, the prose from the point of view of one character and the senryu from the point of view of other characters). 

Friday, September 23, 2022


I grow peace in the purple sweet of lavender, in hardy roots that find power in their home soil, in bee-kissed blooms that scent cloud and sky. I chant of birthing green, of filling bellies, of calming dreams. I touch my cheek to lavender sprigs… and skin-to-leaf, we share our wants and needs. I sing to them of foresting stories in the soothing dark, plants hum to me of seeds in the sun and of rain in the night. I grow peace in the purple sweet of lavender, resting in scent, in color, in life.

photo by Heather Ford, on Unsplash

- yesterday, the Northern Hemisphere celebrated the Autumn Equinox. I spent it collecting seeds from my garden, and hoping for gentler days for the world (for my flesh and bones, too).  

 - for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #45: War and Peace.

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