At night I fear to face my dreams, the tingle of what I left undone, the haunting sense of things I lost. At an airport, being late realizing that I left my passport somewhere.
It happened twice, once in Tokyo when I packed my passport in my suitcase and had to leave the bus; unpack and show the police my papers before I was allowed to leave. Another time I left my passport at the customs office at SFO and only realized it when I got to my hotel room. Jetlagged I returned twice before I had my papers safe again.
At night, I’m always late rushing through the night, sometimes waking breathless. Heart pounding looking for my passport.
the wind-moved branches
dead man’s claw on window panes —
a pale moon watching
Today it’s haibun Monday at dVerse, Frank hosts with the seasonal topic of fear.
October 25, 2021