POETRY | HAIBUN CHALLENGE

Past Participle

Future continuous

Photo by Harry Quan on Unsplash

Every day, the girl inspects her reflection in the mirror. Sometimes in the morning’s cold daylight, harsh on her pale skin, sometimes at night, when the moon’s glow deepens the shadows under her eyes. It is an addiction of sorts, seeking signs of similarity, familiarity, individuality. Yearning for something, someone.

Are those hazel eyes, flecked with amber and green, hers alone or a half-frayed string of DNA from history, holding out for recognition? Does the way she tilts her head, noting all her faults and inconsistencies, mimic the mannerisms of an ancestor twice removed from her gnarled family tree by disgrace and affectation?

Somewhere in her past did a work-worn washerwoman wonder at her own river-bound reflection as she stole a moment’s rest from her relentless day?

Where is today’s girl? Who is she, now?

pausing to ponder
searching for her history
looking for her self

This is a submission to the Garden of Neuro Haibun Poetry Challenge.

The day 19 prompt was ‘familiar stranger’.

If you would like to read more of my work, please feel free — you’ll find my poetry here: