Personal Paschal Mystery

by Frank J. Tassone · 16 July 2015

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Haibun Poem

You took your last breath. You, the Life, died. Where you could never be, you went. Death, through yours, becomes the door to life.

My cousin, who could sit still no more than his hyperactive mother, lay unmoving in his death. Through that door, he’s alive in you, and through you alive in all.

I have to believe that.

pouring red wine
our life like a libation
spilling over

more by FRANK J. TASSONE

photograph by Davide Ragusa

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Tags: death family haibun 49 memory new poetry poem rebellion spirits

Frank J. Tassone

Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.