It will happen in the stillness and cover of night, when all are asleep. I will grab the bag I keep packed under my bed, grab my few prized possessions and put them in a satchel, and just leave. No sad goodbye notes, no see-ya-soons, not even a sorry-I-had-to-go. You won’t even know I am missing for the biggest part of the day. You will just think I am sleeping. By then, I’ve hit the bank for a withdraw and then off to the Amtrak station. You will probably think I’ve gone off on holiday to the beach, but no. I am headed to Maine. After a few days, you will assume I am still coming back, but no. I will be staying there. I won’t call, nor write, not even an email. When I do get there, I will change my name and start a new life. My life. Not the life you want me to live, not the life I should live, not even the life you thought I wanted all of these years. Did you even know me at all?
in darkness, shadowed
raven whispers her retreat
life’s wisdom, her prize
©2020 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.
Note: Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. Wikipedia