The Cloud of Unknowing
a Haibun
Today, strong gusts of wind pummel the desert floor, while on the Santa Rosa mountains ominous clouds hang low, seemingly reluctant to bring much-needed rain to our thirsty valley. In spite of drought, stalwart wild flowers, yellow and lavender, push through the crusty desert floor, clothing our world in swaths of color.
The old man sits on his patio across the way from me, bundled in a bright red lap robe. The fragrance of his pipe wafts my way and I recall the hours we used to sit and muse on life’s mysteries while nursed his tobacco habit and stroked the burled wood cradled in the palm of his hand. “I’ve seen a lot,” he would say, “and I know very little. I’m willing to wait to understand it all.”
Confusion clouds his mind these days, but when he sees me those eyes still twinkle and he throws me a kiss. I catch it, and toss one of my own back to him. I suppose that he’s closer to piercing through the darkness and unwrapping the mysteries the rest of us still grapple with.
cloud-covered mountain
even at the summit
we can’t always see clearly
Today we are pleased to have Lynn hosting Poetics at dVerse. She asks us to climb to the summit of the mountain for inspiration. I’m fortunate to live my life surrounded by majestic mountains. Thank you, Lynn. Please join us.
So much to think over here. My mind went to this book — https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cloud_of_Unknowing, linking in case it is new to you.
Such a beautiful poem!
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I’ve read it more than once–and that’s were the title came from. Glad you picked up on it.
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I used to work out of Palm Springs, so I’m hip to your locale. Yes, this is one of your best haibuns, & I love how a haiku always sparkles at the end of them, like a star on a holiday tree; stunning, personal, touching; yup–nice work, thanks.
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A stunning write, Victoria! Wisdom does show itself in the mountain’s mist!
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Oh, this is so touching and poignant, Victoria. He is a wise man; perhaps more wisdom comes as one is closer to piercing the darkness!
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“I’ve seen a lot, and I know very little. I’m willing to wait to understand it all.”—this is like my kind of words to live by today, Victoria. Truly, we can only take & give so much in this one precious life. Hello there… hello from the other side… it’s been a while (again). 🙂
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Beautifully imagined and realized, Victoria. As other have said the wisdom in this poem makes it a gem.
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I really like this piece. Filled with such wisdom and you painted great images with your words.
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So elegantly written, full of colourful gems.
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So, so, good!
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Such a lovely peice…and there will always be things we do not know…..
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Such wisdom, beauty and emotion…I love the wrapping and unwrapping throughout and the earth clothed in color in the beginning. Beautiful, Victoria.
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Yes a lot of wisdom in these words…beautiful to read.
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A heavenly haibun, Victoria 😉
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I’d love to see the place that inspired this, and meet the pipe-smoking man.
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Well, come visit us in Palm Desert. And the man is inside my head–he’s fictional–or perhaps a composite of people I’ve known through a lifetime of working with the elderly.
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I love the imagery of wild flowers , yellow and lavender growing despite of lack of rain. Your story about the old man, s spiritual journey and insights intrigue me.
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It’s amazing to me that flowers can bloom in abundance under such dry conditions. I love your portrayal of your neighbor who may be nearing the dimension of greater understanding. I hope he finds it.
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What a beautiful panoramic scene you have Victoria ~ I enjoyed the conversation with the old man and his patience to wait for understanding to come ~ Perhaps it will when we accept our own mortality ~
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What an endearing character in your neighborhood…blown kisses and the patience of waiting to understand it all! Lovely haibun in the shadow of your mountains…thanks, Victoria.
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Oh, that title is to die for! This is a wonderful piece, Victoria. I tend to favor this section, myself:
“In spite of drought, stalwart wild flowers, yellow and lavender, push through the crusty desert floor, clothing our world in swaths of color.
The old man sits on his patio across the way from me, bundled in a bright red lap robe. The fragrance of his pipe wafts my way and I recall the hours we used”
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Beautifully wise 🙂
Lots of love,
Sanaa
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