Refuge
a haibun sequence
Refuge On a holy day devoted to family, ICE agents raided the gorge in the Pisgah Forest where hundreds were gathered to swim and fish, make camp and break bread. Instead, they were chased through woods, down steep slopes and over felled oaks. Grabbed by brambles and snaking roots. One mother crossed swift currents with her children, another was taken in flip-flops and a bathing suit. Some families split up. Hid behind rocks until dark. caught on a snag a baby’s water shoe News spread, wild as fire, first as a warning, then drawing venom. Keep it up boys, they posted, and good riddance. Thirteen were taken, some say to Georgia. Fathers. Nephews. Brothers. Mothers. rain-soaked red towels weigh sycamore limbs This was a sacred place, priests say, with heads bowed like herons. And don’t we all know it, the forgiveness of a cool creek in summer? Bare feet. Sun-warmed granite. Mountains, wrapped around us. gold-dipped gliders fly without borders
Thank you for reading a small spectacle. I did want to share that the closing haiku of this experimental haibun sequence takes inspiration from Bryan Pfeiffer’s recent essay, A Dragonfly Without Borders: How a restless insect wanders our flawed and beautiful planet.
This is how to make something beautiful out of something so horrific so that we can each feel that sacred space and send out our prayers. Thank you for this witnessing.
MK, I read this twice -- with only one deep breath between readings. And now I am patiently waiting for my tears to stop flowing and for the lump to leave my throat so that I can breathe deeply again and see clearly enough to read it one more time.