Place
Pregnant and homeless. Stopping at a country church, I had the need to fill a policeman’s helmet ( a strange urban Victorian law/myth? ). There being none, I scrambled into a long forgotten part of the churchyard. Moss covered headstones lay sunk in angled planes, barely visible in the damp light.
answering a call
marking my territory
I reserve a place
When the twins were born, one, compromised at birth, died. My rootless position meant that my only connection was the country churchyard where a piece of me lay outside the locked doors. There was a funeral. A white casket. A rosemary bush for a headstone. I never visited, only the old grave tender knew where it was and he himself has taken his place.
only twigs
on this rosemary bush
winter moon
Nicole Hague-Andrews 
So heartbreakingly tender, like the rosemary twig remains.
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Thankyou Angie..we carry our skeletons with us on this all hallows eve………
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very touching words- very much like a winter’s moon moment.
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Thanks Sun..
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This haibun was very special, taking me suddenly from one mood to another, with startling, precise description of scenery then background. The opening was so, so powerful, and when I finished I felt bitterness of today’s callous society, again. You took great care with the words you closed with. Really strong writing.
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I really appreciate your thoughtful and tactful feedback..Nicole the deckhand
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Really powerful – from the first line to the very last one. In every detail described, every emotion and the way they echoed in my mind. Moving and very raw.
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Hi Ese,
Thanks for your comments, I appreciate the feedback, trying to keep the succinct objectivity of the narrative, while leaving signposts hinting at a deeper emotional connection nearly makes my head explode!! Difficult isn’t it? I should be painting, ( but that’s no less problematic ) so I just did some cooking instead………
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I bet it is difficult! But I am sure you did the cooking with the same artistic touch you do your writing and your art as well. 🙂
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Nice!
This reads like a haibun, with that objective voice that comes with a narrator recounting a past event. I need to develop a voice like yours… I always end up getting too wrapped into the story to stay on a level.
Keep them coming, nic!
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Hi,
Thanks for your encouragement, see you in the engine room!
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Actually you don’t need to develop a voice like mine…I struggle with the same thing.. I found a good quote the other day …’ everything changes when you begin to emit your own frequency rather than absorbing those around you..’ etc
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So powerful … A wonderful, complex, heartbreaking piece.
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