♦ Poetic Sketches M to R ♦

Letter to Darius "ripples far and near"

ASR: Prose poem lament, a letter to a friend, using the metaphor of Basho's famous haiku.

Epistle to Darius

”ripples far or near"

         Frogs plop, and the ripples reach us far or near. Each action has effects, each inaction allows another to go uncanceled. Each thought, each word, each deed. Frogs plop and we hardly notice, till the ripples reach our loved ones heart, the returning echo soft but clear to those who listen.

         Where did my ripples go? I never lived for quid-pro-quo! But did I think that the kindnesses I gave might return to me in some small way? And therein lies my sadness. I gave my heart, my time, my money. I connected those who otherwise would never have been known and been alone. Now, I question whether all my efforts were in vain. And yet, some trace remains. A card, a call, a kind word beckons from a place I once called home. But the connections are too few and the connector almost always me. I know I’m not forgotten. But no one seems to care enough to notice. In response I write laments I’ll send someday.

         Here the sun is bright beneath the cloudless skies. And the rain today smelled of Spring. Here I have received the kindness of acceptance, even affirmations of who I am, of who I’m meant to be. Some think I’m healing, but writing words won't pay the bills. Even with the kindness of family and friends, I may be homeless soon. Here generosity extends as far as group or family and I have neither. There is no systemic net to catch the poor.

         Still I write, I heal and breathe the mild fragrance of the Oklahoma air. And kindness is a family of four, too poor to live in town. We survive on the edge of nowhere; those of us who refuse to fade into the rocky soil. We still breathe. Each ripple of our deeds resounds like plops of frogs, like one of Basho’s dreams.

         May this letter find you calm at heart, dear Darius. Know that I will survive somehow and arise to sing victorious as you wished for me last Spring.

K Enga

1 januar 2004
for Darius Loghmanee of New York and Illinois.