National Poetry Month — Haiku 27

I guess it’s the barometric pressure or something, but you know those days where you can just tell that everyone’s walking around with a lump in the throat?

It’s like we all notice on the same day that our hearts are spongey and our kids are moving through the world without us and our dogs are old and our words are inadequate and trouble is brewing.

It’s like we all notice we’re human and that the earth is spinning and keening and paying no attention whatsoever to the fact that we’re this close to flying off.

It’s like we all notice that we’re utterly alone and, yet, in it together.

It’s just a little much sometimes, don’t you think?

Today was like that and I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one who was madly relieved when the sky just cracked open and let it rip.

Haiku 27

green-gray clouds, steaming
we wrench our necks looking up
we beg for a break

— Liz Garton Scanlon
   04/27/09

16 Responses to “National Poetry Month — Haiku 27”

  1. saralholmes

    Those spongey hearts. They soak up the sad, but also the glorious.

    Wrenching my neck, looking up at your poem. . .

  2. Anonymous

    Tanita Says 🙂

    I see your “a little bit much sometimes” and raise it to “I don’t know if I can take this.” I’m so glad it’s raining here, too. Somehow, that just makes it a little easier to bear…