The world at the other side, is drily chaotic but still a beloved motherland. I have come for the funeral but it felt like a homecoming. For myself, I had prayed for peace for my ailing father, and a comforting life for my mother and sisters who have been caring for him. He was a difficult patient who knew his days were numbered. As I arrive at the wake, the traditions of grieving made everything familiar, and reassuring - flowers, mass cards, consoling words of neighbors and friends, and the prayers for the dead for 9 days.
Rains came at early morning, cooling the summer-like temperatures during the day. Dawn was reddish grey, with gloomy skies. When the rains break, it was steady humming on the roof and small garden. We were lucky that on the morning of the funeral rites, sky held its peace & only gave away its tears in the late afternoon.
smell of fragrant roses
perks up my nose, but there're no flowers-
only dying candles-
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg. The haiku happened to me.