Your wails opened my eyes to the dark. I covered ears with shaky hands and begged for dreams of noontime. But our blood danced too fast through my veins and arteries, forcing my heart to drum its deafening thump-thump-thump into chest and skull. I had bested terrors that had lurked in the night for eleven years. But you were so small, so tender, so hairless… too many nightmares could steal bright dreams from your still soft baby head.
love’s shaky embrace—
you are safe
I was angry with you, for working too much and sleeping near naught. “It’s not for long,” you said, “just until I get this, maybe that, and then something else. I’m safe.” I yelled my disbelief. You pretended not to hear, and said, “I want ribs for my birthday, coconut rice with black beans, and Russian salad. For dessert, I want Dominican cake.” I told you I would cook nothing, and hung up the phone when you laughed at my lie. On our next day together, bloody cracks lined your lips… I did all the talking and crying. You did all the dying.
one last laugh
death is such a thief—
My memory makes you eternal. In a room that’s ever-bright, my dress is red and your wings white; I cook, you eat, I smile, you drink, I scold, you laugh, we dance… and you never drive.
Process Note: My little brother was killed in a car accident, almost three years ago. I miss him all the time. There are days when I get very angry at the universe that took him from this world, while he was still so young. After a bit of crying and a lot of cursing, I thank nature for the gift of memories. Since he died, I’ve been writing everything I remember about him. When memories hit while I’m away from my computer, I write on anything I can find: napkins, leaves, the back of receipts… I keep those bits of scribbled treasure in a miniature cabinet I purchased from my friend Eliora, with that purpose in mind. I pulled the first haiku of this haibun out of my little cabinet of remembrances. It’s October… The Veil is thinning… It feels right.
linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform
pre-Witches in Fiction 2015, fourth giveaway:
Ancestor/Loved One Honoring Ritual Chest, by Eliora
Witches in Fiction 2015… Death Rites and Remembrances 4th giveaway is sponsored by Eliora. A very lucky Wicked Darling will receive an Ancestor/Loved One Honoring Ritual Chest, which contains four white candles, a wee bottle of ancestor candle dressing oil, a photo frame (black velvet easel back), a vintage embellished brass candlestick, and a suggested ritual.
Here is how to enter this giveaway: Leave a comment telling me a bit about how you honor/remember/celebrate the memory of loved ones who have left this world. For one extra entry, visit Eliora’s page, scroll down her wall, and come back to tell me what caught your eye. Wishing for a second extra entry? Share this post on Facebook (tag me and Eliora). You can get a third extra entry, if you add these words at the end of your comment: “Magaly, do throw my name into your witchy cauldron!”
Giveaway Rules, details and stuff…
* I need to be able to contact the winners. If you don’t have a website or social media profile, through which we can interact, then please add your email to your comment. If your name comes up, and I have no way to contact you, I will choose another name.
* You can group all your entries in a single comment—or not… the choice is yours.
* To my Canadians, before you can claim your prize, I must test your mathematical brilliance by asking you a very obscure question, such as… what’s 13 + .5? Yeah, obscure…
* All Witches in Fiction 2015 giveaways will end on October 20th, 2015, at 10:13 pm, EDT. The winners will be chosen using Random.Org, and announced on October 21st, 2015.
* This giveaway is open worldwide, excluding any place where prohibited by law.
This is a pre-party post. Witches in Fiction 2015… Death Rites and Remembrances won’t take place until October 17th; to join the celebration, click the link.
Other Witches in Fiction 2015 pre-posts:
– “Loving You through the Veil”
– Culture with Real Fictionalized Witches in It
– Shaking It and Twisting It until It Says Yes
– Not All Witchy Souls Are Religious
– “A Rattle and a Wee Book on Her Grave”