Haibun: Finding What’s Hidden

Almost impassable, the mountains around Lake Roosevelt usually fall jaggedly into another dry wash. During the ongoing Indian Wars, when the US sent their troops after the local Apache band, they could only chase as far as their supply trains because they didn’t know where the water was. The Apache bands did.

So these tracks of land sit, almost impossible to those who don’t know were the water is hidden. Shame can feel like that for me. Remembering an event where I did something so regrettable, I cringe thinking I am still there. In a moment I relive it.  All the regret around it comes back as a halting fear. I quickly try to run from the memory and whatever triggers it.

But what if this response doesn’t serve me anymore? What if those fears are holding me back? What if I have to traverse this stretch of regret.

I need to find that source of identity within me. I need to know where to find it like the Apache warriors knew where the water was. The only way past it is to return back to who I am now—how I’m older and wiser, how I can wield my inner powers of focus or wisdom or self-control—and lean into that narrative as I cross the expanse.

We can grow past our regrets and fears if we know where to find ourselves along the way.

rippled mountains sprawl

into the sky’s haul just as

summer’s end soon calls