The weekly prompt from my Florida writers’ group was to write a story or poem on the theme, “I’m not here!”. This is my response to that prompt—a haiku of three-line stanzas, the lines comprised of 5 – 7 – 5 syllables.
It is adapted from an earlier poem I wrote, titled ‘Love in the Morning’, which won a prize in the SouthWest Florida Writers’ Group contest a year ago, and which is #10 in the list of previous posts in this blog.
“I’m not here,” I say to those who stand above me, on top of the grass. “I’m not here, below where you gather to mourn me,” I cry joyously. “I am in breezes that blow gently in the night, rustling your curtains.” “I am the soft rain that wakes you in the morning, whispering your name.” “I’m not here,” I say to those who weep at my grave, lamenting my soul. “I’m not here, below this hallowed ground you stand on,” I shout happily. “I am dawn’s first beams--- diamonds dancing on water, bright angels of light.” “I am shade on trees, shape-shifting ‘cross leaves turned up to welcome the sun.” “I’m not here,” I say to dear ones who believe I’m in the cold, cold ground. “I’m not here as if I’ve died and left forever,” I call blissfully. “I am the music we listened to together that stirs in your souls.” “I am the laughter you hear from children playing, just as we once played.” “I’m not here,” I say to you---especially you, who miss me so. “I’m not here, apart from you, loving hearts sundered,” I declare raptly. “I am every thought, every prayer, every promise you have ever made.” “I am part of each breath you draw, each step you take. I’m with you always.” “I’m not here,” I say to all at my sepulchre. hoping they will heed. “I’m not here!” I cry--- a joyous, rapturous shout; “I dwell in you now.”