In Mazes, Create

The pain-shroud spilled over her all, day and night… blackening her dreams, drowning her living in the bitter-salt that had to be wept, if cleansing was to be had. Hurt cries scarred her heart’s skin, blemished the veil that separated her mind’s eye from the world, and named her existence eternally dark. “I’m walled in a door-less pit that overflows with black, black, pitch-black stagnation that’s penumbra over my Self,” she said. “No flesh, no bone, no soul could survive this. How could I!”

black flowers
in mazes, create—
ink treasure

Process Note: I’ve linked this poem to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads’ “Micro Poetry” prompt. Since the word “Micro” seemed to be glaring at the prose section of my poem, I was only going to link the haiku bit of this haibun. Then I got curious about how one might count the lines that compose a haibun (my poetry forms knowledge is rather limited). I read this article on Haibun Today, and it shed little light onto my line division issue. So I visited the word jungle (Wikipedia) and found this wee bit: “Prose poetry is poetry without line breaks in accordance to paragraph structure as opposed to stanza.”

Out of deliciously selfish convenience (I really wanted to share the haibun *cough*), I interpreted the quote to mean that there aren’t any real line breaks in the paragraphs of prose poetry. If this is true (and I have no idea if it is), then “In Mazes, Create” contains only four lines. Micro and the Muse are aiming some seriously suspicious looks my way; and somehow, I doubt that I can fault them for it. What do you think, my Wicked Luvs?

In Mazes, Createblacked out from Johanna Basford’s
Secret Garden: an Inky Treasure Hunt and Coloring Book

27 thoughts on “In Mazes, Create”

  1. Haibun is a fascinating form to me always–and it works somehow when my poetry-mind says it logically shouldn’t, in this case, very effectively to show in a rich detail all the effects, the devouring immensity of pain, and the processing of it, mind and heart, and the victory of it in what can be gained–true treasure, because so hard won, never to be taken for granted. Loved this.

    • After reading your comment, I thought about the shape of this haibun: the prose (all pain and hurt) stretches, while the haiku is just a breathe. You’re right, it’s a rather accurate picture of the way I dance with pain–I complain, I curse it, hate it, even… But in the end, I take a breath and make the best of a not so good thing.

      And that works. ♥

    • My grandmother was quite found of the word penumbra (same term in Spanish). She said it so much that I can’t even imagine it been spooky. But I get what you mean, it does add an air of mystery to any conversation. And I really love the sound it makes.

  2. suspicious looks? ha. Well, let them glare because I think you figured out a few acceptable ways 🙂 Buckets of tears, salty and otherwise are necessary to cleanse…

Leave a Comment