In Passing
ashes over hilltops —
elders chase the smoke
as we are sent away
I’m currently reading Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin, a novel that’s essentially an anthropological study of a fictional post-apocalyptic society called the Kesh. It’s a fascinating read, and I’m especially drawn to all the rituals and ceremonies described in the book.
This haiku is inspired by the Kesh’s funeral rites and their ceremonial surrendering of the passed one’s cremated ashes to the wind. (It’s also a pretty good descriptor of bushfire season, something that’s quite a lot closer to reality.)