“Willow VI: Father II”
by Ry Hakari
Lightning wind esper
Will-o’-the-wisp’s a live wire
Raising Cain, Hell, tame
“I finally get what you’ve been saying, now that we’re knee deep side by side. The storm clouds are circling above us as we struggle against the tide. I feel your grip firm on my shoulder, but this fear in my head won’t subside — They patiently circle around us as we hold out… Oh father, why have they forsaken me? You warned me that they would! The curse is passing down the bloodline — It’s spoken and misunderstood! We’re losing light and strength of will, the darkened depths beckoning still, then we hold on against the tide... Another storm you’re left to fight alone — Remember son, you’re reaping what you’ve sown. Under the waves we’re sinking like a stone — I’m sorry son, you’re reaping what you’ve sown… You’re reaping what you’ve sown! We’re slowly losing ground, and hope is harder to maintain when all the prayers we prayed feel lost like tears in the rain! The water is pulling down, the moon’s eclipsing the sun — The ending that we knew would come, has finally begun! You’re reaping what you’ve sown! It’s finally begun! You’re reaping what you’ve sown! I’m sorry son, you’re reaping what you’ve sown! This sorrow weighs down on my shoulders, this fear’s getting harder to hide — You’ll leave me alone in this darkness, left to hold out against the tide…”
— Celldweller, “Against The Tide”
Elly, tell me what is wrong with you, why do you haunt me silently, or is it me and our promise is a mirage, a false memory? Pangs plumb the bloodlines of clotted loves not yet lost, circling the drains as the sun slowly sets days in a mass horizon grave — You wear a burial shroud invisibly (I’ve seen it), when allowed a bridal gown (or so I think), but only change names, your face. You never escape twilight’s silent cage with your suitcase, retracing nightmares eve you always hesitate and slip away as I wake! Elly, why are you chasing this recluse, I can’t believe it’s me you’d choose, or is it just me, only myself after I narcissistically? It’s not feasible for Cabin-fevered behemoths to utter “Shibboleth” without a lisp, unless done with Spring Honeysuckle, but with tight lips pursed, the currency of words is mostly exchanged through language read, unheard, but presumption is our restless blood’s a sanguine hue, not felt caged in blue veins that seem winter weeping willow’s bough-bar’s double. ‘Why does it seem to take the littlest things the longest to say, like “I know I’m ok” or “hello” to new people notwithstanding? Why not live life like you’re alive and let the past die and stay dead if yesterday’s always’ have faded grey — why necromancy?’ I’m beside myself with curiosity of how to demystify the disguise, weaving left and right and swaying back and forth half-asleep. I want to sit on the curb and sink into the concrete and think out in the open, not under an ever-dying willow tree in my mind when I’m tired of running after or away from you — maybe what I really want is an entirely different environment, temperament, to not be a taciturn in person, for my restless hands not to express my behemoth mind so wild, blue beast soothed by true beaut. Elly, tell me what is wrong with you, why do you haunt me silently, or is it me and our promise is a mirage, a false memory? With so much dark in my drifting fog, light intermittent within inner dialog, I cannot recollect anything before this hazy melancholy or imagine anything after this fever dream manifesting our ambiguous oath’s residue into marriage vows — a happy-ending in reality. Chaos building blocks make up broken complexes, word-play paradoxes in Manic-Depressant Metropolis on M. C. Escher Boulevard where Avant-garde bard, elusive muse chase each other’s ethereal hearts like shooting stars on endless loops, dogs after cats after yarn, but maybe the street to Resilience, the Skyline’s Vermillion Intermission balancing between sleep and waking, we must take individually… Elly, why are you chasing this recluse, I can’t believe it’s me you’d choose, or is it just me, only myself after I narcissistically?
Will-o-‘the-wisp / Ignis Fatuus:
atmospheric ghost lights seen by travellers at night, especially over bogs, swamps or marshes. It resembles a flickering lamp and is said to recede if approached, drawing travellers from the safe paths.
Have eyes in the back of your head:
to know everything that is happening around you // Parents of young children have to have eyes in the back of their heads.
Extra SEnsory PERception
an individual capable of telepathy and other similar paranormal abilities.
1. vivacious, alert, or energetic person.
2. a wire carrying an electric current
Raise Cain (old-fashioned):
to complain angrily about something and to cause a lot of trouble for the people who are responsible for it
in Genesis 4, Cain kills his brother Abel. In the context of my haiku, I was suggesting that as a parent, I would raise up children who are rebellious by nature of being human, to be be tame, suggesting they would be good kids, as far as children with fallen human natures can be with positive spiritual guidance.
Gentle Willow Wire Tree by Sal Villano
Public Domain Image