All that Remains
We sit beneath the old beri tree, a relief from the summer heat. Its leaves rustle gently,
stirring memories of our childhood. The half-ripened ber are still waiting, for a deep shade
of red. Some have already fallen to the ground, perhaps shaken loose by stones, pecked by
birds, or simply blown away by the wind. A few lie scattered, trodden by passersby.
The fruit tastes just as it always has—every sweet-and-sour bite bringing back carefree
summers.
We search for our names carved into this beri trunk, faded yet there . . . we linger, looking
for the parts of ourselves we left behind.
dappled sunlight
on the dusty trail
unspoken words
https://drifting-sands-haibun.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/09/DSH-Issue-37-Sept-2026.pdf
A humid day
She is sitting alone on a clay mound. We exchange smiles when I come near, a deep silence follows. She wants me to tell her about her mother who has been missing since the monsoon flood. She has a lingering hope in her big black eyes. I have nothing to share with her as we still don’t know much about the missing persons. I come to this relief camp daily to console her and many others. Every time she gets no news on her mother—the only person left in her life, she looks down in despair, and returns to her tent—a temporary shelter that keeps her safe for the time being.
muddy trail
with many footprints . . .
mid-summer migration
Drifting Sands Haibun, Issue 36, June 2026.
https://drifting-sands-haibun.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/DSH-Issue-36-June-2026.pdf
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