A series of haikus reflecting on this pandemic season.
By Jean Neely
19 April
God of mysteries
we walk paths of unknowing
Christ of the shadows
22 April
fire deep down rage
fury at the universe
fists raised up at God
24 April
raw the nerves pulled taut
sanity stretched at the seams
holding the pieces
30 April
what is the answer
how to choose a way for life
big or little deaths
5 May
cloistered in myself
can I hold the seeds of hope
tend inner gardens
18 May
patter of raindrops
unexpected clouds in May
nourish our dry earth
25 May
old dispensations
stale worn out theologies
rotted at the roots
29 May
still the bitter crop
our anger blossoms bursts with
fruit of buried grief
8 June
permission to count
gazing at succulents as
a form of prayer
11 June
silent work of God
the whole plant is in each leaf
reservoir of life
12 June
silver green longings
from withered leaves there shoot forth
pink tendrils of hope
15 June
knotted strands and snarls
God of all the twists and turns
of my unraveling
Photo by Yousef Espanioly on Unsplash
Dr. Jean Neely is a writer and independent scholar. She currently teaches writing at Azusa Pacific University. Follow her on Twitter.