Monday, February 3, 2025

Haibun #6: The Great Fire

February is National Haiku Writing Month! This haibun, a poetry form combining prose and haiku, features three haiku and is a tribute to my late grandmother and her life as a light-aircraft-pilot-turned-mother-of-five in the tumultuous time between World War II and the Vietnam War:

The Great Fire

My grandmother was a pilot when she was young and flew light aircraft. I have a photo of her from the 1940s standing proudly next to her plane. She was a dreamer. The story my mother tells is that my grandmother was poor and deemed unworthy of marrying my grandfather. My grandfather is remembered as a war hero who was shot in the head on D-Day, survived, and earned a Purple Heart.

big sky

            prairielands reach

                        a time before I was born

They lived in a modest neighborhood outside of Washington, D.C., and had five children together, as good Catholics did in those days. My grandfather worked long hours at a grocery store, and he drank. A lot. For years, his doctor told him if he didn’t change, he’d have a heart attack. And he did. Twice. The second one sent him falling off the bed in the middle of the night. He hit his head on a dresser, waking everyone in the house. My mother, who was 16, came running and cradled him as he lay dying.

sliver of crescent moon
over tallgrass prairie…
a kingbird’s solitary perch

He left my grandmother with four children at home, one fighting a new war in Vietnam, and no money. Later in her life, my grandmother wrote a poem about how all she ever wanted was to be with him. She lived with my parents when I was a baby, took care of me while they worked, and died when I was five in a nursing home.

across a shimmering plain
wildflowers bend
into the prairie wind

"The Great Fire," copyright 2025 Amelia Cotter (first published in Bronze Bird Review, 2024)

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