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{un}holy haiku - 3rd Edition


mskate

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rustles a soft voice 

the leaves in the trees whisper

gently in the breeze 

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gently in the breeze 

weeping willow points at path 

following the creek 

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hide whispered secrets 

in fields of abandoned wheat 

only falcons know  

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through the clouds and blue

parsing grass from height searching  

a reason to dive  

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talon red, gold eye 

soon they'll all be gray, sun sets 

moon is almost full 

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down the moonlit road 

glistening with ice and hope 

mercy comes on foot 

 

(In winter, in mountainous regions, it happens sometimes that the ambulance can't pass through the snow. Then the paramedics, police and/or mountain rescue service carry the stretcher with the patient over the snow, which doesn't sound like a problem until you realize it can be several kilometres long hike.)

 

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God show them mercy 

clear their paths into safety 

grant peace to their lands  

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swing the winds of war 

burning sulfur, still cold grave 

awaiting flowers 

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feeding fertile lands 

veins of mother's giving hands

somewhat feared, but loved 

 

(In my part of the world rivers are usually named with female names and traditionally they were thought to be a sort of beings. So the more dangerous a river, the more pleasing name was given to it - her - to invoke her softer, merciful side. Recently a migrant girl drowned in a river whose name means "The endearing one". She looks like you can walk across her, seemingly shallow and only playful. And you can, if you know where sudden depths in river bed are, that create whirlpools.)   

Edited by Helen of Annoy
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