rob kistner © 2019
Tuesday’s dVerse prompt, my grandson’s approaching birthday, my father who died this time of year, my precarious health, the beauty of where I live, the blessings of my life — these all put me deep in reflection the past couple days. This haibun bubbled up from all that, so I want to share it here on dVerse OLN.
For 43 years I tried to find a place where I felt I belonged, where I could feel my heart and soul open, where I could draw close to the ones I love and truly feel that love fully unfold, with my new wife, and for my children. Where I could find peace of mind, and leave ugly, hurtful memories behind me.
I found that in Oregon, the Pacific Northwest, in 1990. Quite unexpectedly, I also found the spirit of the man who adopted me from the orphanage, gave me his name, and was my rock during a traumatic childhood. This world, that is the Pacific Northwest, is alive with the same wilderness energy he introduced me to in Canada — to experience, understand, and come to love. That world, which we explored together every summer, until his death in 1983.
I hadn’t understood how much I missed his presence, until I arrived here and felt it so vividly, all around me, this same energy that he loved. Wild lakes and rivers to fish, beautiful forests to hike, majestic mountains — clean open sky over pure pristine land! And I found something he would have loved — the incredible Oregon Pacific Ocean coast. This is more than just a place to me, and he was more than just my father. They both were my sanctuary!
rob kistner © 2019
“This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“
but there are moments
with eyes closed
I can gaze back
through time’s window
I see my beloved Oregon home
of 25 amazing years
vividly alive this morning
here in my memories…
through my window this day
I see the scurry of creatures
warmed by the Oregon summer
I hear nature
in splendid voice
the chuff
of a tree’d red squirrel
the song
chirp
and trill of birds
chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others
fly
flutter
and flit
in a flash of orange
a striking northern flicker
momentarily eschewing insects
is peck peck pecking
cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from our feeder
a red-tailed hawk
calls
from atop a Sitka spruce
swaying
in the crisp blue sky
the muffled belling of a deer
wandering the safety of old-growth
whispers
through the foothills
the distant bark
of a neighbor’s dog
echoing the basin
up along our stream
reminds me
we have friends nearby
my wife’s
gentle laughter
validates the friendship
her tender smile
validates our love
the rustle of leaves
stirred by the breeze
wafting through the valley
smartly punctuated
by the staccato
of conifer cones
that fall
from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in Douglas fir
busy with their forage
wap wap wap
they bounce off our roof
striking the ground
closely followed
by the scamper
of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry
drifting in the window
intoxicating fragrances
cedar
pine
fir
lily
rose
lilac
grasses
loam
and more
a rich
earthy bouquet
caught in my reverie
I breathe in
deeply
to suddenly remember
…I’m not in my Oregon home
I am in my new Seattle home
and it’s filled to overflowing
with family
and love
for a moment
I do not open my eyes
I linger a bit longer
in my beautiful dream
of my Oregon
my heart will forever be there
but we will likely never go back
not until my ashes are spread
high in the Cascade Mountains
on Mt. Hood
across breathtaking Lost Lake
but here
now
on this day
filled with memories
and joy
a solitary tear
falls
rob kistner © 2019
when in our reflection
we see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship to the natural way
binds us to our center
when we do not recognize
the fumbling
frightened flesh parade
in which we all lock step
shoulder to shoulder
flailing for our survival
when our insanity of arrogance
so distorts our vision
of our place in time
blind to the sacred ancient truths
removed from bone-broken reality
of human failure and weakness
when facts annoy and fiction comforts
and we begin to eat our own
while fornicating with false gods
of greed, power, and prejudice
on forsaken gilded alters
of perjured cruelty
then the hour of the beast
is certainly at hand
and we are
by deed and apathy
its deserving helpless prey
rob kistner © 2019
talons like knives he’s a lethal machine
the wound is deadly and delivered clean
with stunning precision, power, and pace
survival instincts impeccably keen
a proud regal bird, true majestic grace
rob kistner © 2019
you said you loved me — you seemed so sincere
but your integrity proved weak my dear
there was evidence that you might not stay
it was plain as day — couldn’t be more clear
but this lovesick fool simply looked away
rob kistner © 2019
This is a memory of the 1940’s and 1950’s, when I grew up in the HOT HUMID STAGNANT 95/95 (heat/humidity) Ohio River Valley summers. OPPRESSIVE! We would offten have to sleep in screened-in “summer rooms” — porches with overhead fans trying to beat the heat, that soaked your bed, while protecting yourself from the hordes of July/August mosquitos.
No Relief
relentless din of crawling prowling night
pours steaming through my window
midnight intrudes damp and searing
insistent
scalded air too hot and thick to breathe
a heat to suffocate
blades beat and drone overhead
promising relief
in vain
sweltered darkness lays heavy upon me
unbearable
I toss in labored half-sleep
gasping for cool relief
restless
I inhale deep to fill my lungs
seeking satisfying breath
only to bake them in cruel heat
no relief
salted droplets trace my spine
baste my neck
pool in the hollow of my fevered chest
bloom and seep
from beneath the smother
of matted soak atop my head
to weep their way ‘cross smoldering brow
into my eyes
and sting
in this nocturnal furnace
night clings and stifles
even dreams are scorched
simmering in summer
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2019
skin smooth as satin
bathed in amber glow
as you lay before me
seductive in the summer sunset
you torched my imagination
ignited my spirit
fired my soul
I wanted you so badly
to fondle you with fingertips
caress you with trembling lips
you promised such sweetness
but I’d been warned by others
who had dared partake
of your fiery charms
“it will end in tears” they said
but I did not heed their counsel
wholly and utterly seduced
I fell upon you hungrily
taking you passionately
in the lust filled moment
our union flared
hot as lava
scorching as an August sun
I was swept away
as I consumed your charms
aflame with desire
as I tasted sweet
your forbidden fruit
in a wanton blaze
I took my fill
but just as quickly
it ended
regrettably
I should have listened
they knew you all too well
you burned me badly
and left me crying
but I never will forget you…
habanero!
rob kistner © 2019
got ‘em on your face
‘specially on your nose
you got freckles
down to your toes
got ‘em on your hands
and up your arms
and what’s even better
you got freckled *charms!
rob kistner © 2019
* beautiful, bold, unpredictable, adventurous
mimicking the blaze
scorching my heart
my burning love
for only you
nor the night sky
deep and vast
freckled sterling
above our heads
that precious moment
when first we kissed
rob kistner © 2019
I bestow my dreams
wings of trust
to carry me
to wisdom’s shore
I share my dreams
with an open mind
so resonant truth
inspires me to be more
rob kistner © 2019
early shadows fall softly ‘cross my face
as peaceful vesper’s rich velvet blanket
drapes its soothing comfort ‘round my shoulders
eager I keep pace — as ends my journey
drawn by the beauty rendered before me
splendored by the rising moon in sunset
I’m welcomed by the freshened eve’ning breeze
as sundown’s amber wanes upon the lane
last light slips slow over far horizon
fog soon will rise and waft — full in moonlight
as darkness falls quiet on the valley
our home hearth’s glow will warm chill silvered night
my heart soars — lifted by this wondrous sight
our sterling stream cascades its serenade
to enwrap my soul in tender homesong
rob kistner © 2019
I sit quiet
at peace in this stillness
close by this fire
soothed by its crackling glow
warmed by the memories
that huddle ’round me
you are here
quiet in my memories
I like that you are still
with me in my heart
this recall is a sweet ache
other memories come
from near and far
into the past
they drift forward
through the years
to visit gently
one by one
memories of others
I’ve been blessed to love
a tender tear for every one
there is a sweetness fills the air
just a touch of soft regret
my heart is full
my spirit calm
a peaceful surrender
to fate’s embrace
would that this evening never end
but soon the flames will falter
as the lingering embers die
as darkness blankets my chamber
I pray
when I am called among the memories
would that I be carried away
in stillness
in sleep
rob kistner © 2019
No Option
to lose the pace
is to still keep going
keep moving forward
lest one be rutted in uncertainty
rigid with the rigor of fear
stalled in hopelessness
paralyzed
by the giving in
the giving up
caught in anguish
with the loss of belief
when grip lets go of dream
arthritic is loss of faith
debilitates the spirit
cripples the manifest light
that shines forth
at the sacred leap
into the dark unknown
but stopping is no option
frozen is the doubting man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked
to the destination uncertain
thus he bleeds out
loses the color of life
to become cold and grey
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
stopping is no option
rob kistner © 2019
Well Traveled
a shorter stride
a stiffened gait
a lessened pace
guarantees it so
but being long a traveler
provides insight
to match the bruise and scars
of years and miles
and the will to move
can best the journey
where wisdom is employed
questions arise
what destination now
what provisions available
what light remains
with no destination
there is no journey
only aimless wander
and provisions grow scarce
the light more precious
loss of purpose
lack of focus
hastens journey’s failure
at this distance
this late hour
failure is not an option
so I will continue forth
eyes down the road
one foot then the other
in steady stride
mindful of the journey
holding to the dream
to arrive with love
spirit whole
full spent
from a road well traveled
rob kistner © 2019