Haibun: Roots
In winter life pulls deep into the roots and death seems to hold it’s most exterior identity. What is alive is alive deep in the roots. What is dead is falling to the dirt to feed those roots.
So it is with you and me? When things start to fall apart, I know for me, I feel a sense of control when I “get back to my roots.” Maybe it’s praying or singing the Doxology, maybe it’s eating no bake cookies, maybe it’s asking my mother or sister if they remember... It’s safe to assume you have your traditions or “things you just got to do.”
When all else seems like it’s dying, we find deep life in our roots.
from this soil, this ground,
grows this life, here bound. . these roots.
winter pulls life near
So it is with you and me? When things start to fall apart, I know for me, I feel a sense of control when I “get back to my roots.” Maybe it’s praying or singing the Doxology, maybe it’s eating no bake cookies, maybe it’s asking my mother or sister if they remember... It’s safe to assume you have your traditions or “things you just got to do.”
When all else seems like it’s dying, we find deep life in our roots.
from this soil, this ground,
grows this life, here bound. . these roots.
winter pulls life near
 |
| & Haiku: This Ground |
