We walk through the woods, with a slanting winter spring sun playing peek-a-boo among the birch trees hurling long shadows across our path. A thin crust of snow still covers the moss, but as soon as we meet the sun it greets us with a hesitant kiss of warmth.
We talk iterate over and over how the war came back again, not a silent proxy war but the blatant attack on a neighbor from a man with imperial ambitions. We feel hope from the news that it does not seem to go the tyrant’s way.. We feel sorrow for both the innocent and the misled soldiers, knowing that from the dark valley of wars the climb back to the cold mountain of freedom the road will be steep and treacherous.
But we know that we have to keep climbing.
to salmon-colored heavens —
the wild song of tits
Today at Haibun Monday at dVerse Frank introduces us to Cold Mountain the Chinese 9th-century poet and the way to think about the cold mountain, both as a metaphor or as the image itself.
I am thinking a lot about the way back from last week’s disaster and though I expect that we still will feel deeper and deeper I know that we will someday begin the climb up to the freedom of cold air.
February 28, 2022
I like the way you balance the thoughts on nature and the thoughts on the invasion.
Freedom is always relative, but I’m sure you’re right, that peace, when it comes, will be cold.
Such a well-crafted haibun, Bjorn. It’s a time capsule that freezes the moment. I also am bowled over by the image.
Very deep and varied outcomes of the two stanzas, and you balanced them superbly. One forgets how close you are to Europe, and the edge of WWIII. I love your haiku, especially,”the wild song of tit”. I know you are referring to birds, but you can imagine where my mind went.
A lovely reflective piece. Powerful without being burdensome, hopeful without being overly sanguine. Good stuff, this.
Masterfully done, Bjorn! The harmonizing of idyllic nature and human pathos concerning the war imbue your haibun with a quiet power that stirs the soul. Bravo!
“But we know that we have to keep climbing.” — Perfect, with a wonderful haiku, to boot.
I can’t help but wonder why the climb back to freedom has to be filled with danger and treachery? It seems that our security is on a very insecure foundation with all the crazed “rulers” out there.
My mom called to wish me a happy namesday today. It was such a nice surprise. I remembered waking up to bullar and presents. My mom said, they give presents? I said yeah, where are my presents and little cinnamon rolls? It was really sweet. I can’t believe Putin thought it was a good idea to threaten Sweden and Finland at the moment. What a piece of *!*? ! Climbing a cold mountain is a wonderful metaphor for hope.
Today we should really have semlor… on fatty Tuesday that is the thing to get.
“We feel sorrow for both the innocent and the misled soldiers, knowing that from the dark valley of wars the climb back to the cold mountain of freedom the road will be steep and treacherous.”
There are so many times I have protested against war. I will continue to stand for peace until I can no longer stand. This attack on Ukraine weighs heavy.
Beautifully inspiring. The first stanza so well-written and the haiku the arrival of spring. Ukrainians are amazing and your words important. The serenity in your haibun is just right.
Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
#Haiku Happenings #8: Bjorn Rudberg’s latest #haibun for #dVersePoetsPub #HaibunMonday!
This is a very heartfelt Haibun. It is so sad to see all the needless destruction and loss of life. Well done.
Beautiful and incredibly sad…
yes, we must keep climbing
Well done. Metaphors are strong and very pertinent. Wonderful piece! ✒️✒️
I love the hope in your piece that we must journey on, and of course the beautiful last image of “tits,” divine.
Beautiful haiku 🙂
Your poignant words are a beautiful warm blanket that covers the cold facts. Deliver us from evil.
Wonderful haibun Björn. The contrast between the subjects of the stanzas highlight the horror.
Excellent piece of writing! Your haiku was like a found pearl in the bottom of a sand-filled oyster.