The Messenger - #dVerse #HaibunMonday #GardenofNeuroInstitute #dream #grandfather #infertility #timetravel #windphone #poem #poetry #poetrycommunity @YvetteMCalleiro

Hello, beautiful readers! I am back from my family cruise. My muse and I are well-rested and rejuvenated (although I still have a lingering cough). We had a wonderful time. We explored Key West through a scavenger hunt. I've been to Key West many times, but my niece had never been, so we figured this would be a fun way of seeing the area. We visited Chichen Itza and Cenote Ik Kil while in Progresso, Mexico. I briefly studied the Mayan culture when I was younger and enjoyed sharing their culture with my son, sister, and niece. Cenote Ik Kil was stunning, and we enjoyed a peaceful, refreshing swim. We also went snorkeling in Cozumel, Mexico, and enjoyed being on the catamaran in between our snorkel time. I also finished reading two books while on the cruise, so I definitely enjoyed my break.

For today's poetry challenge, I am combining two prompts. The first one is actually an open invitation for submissions to the Garden of Neuro Institute's Carried by the Wind: Conversations Between Here and After Ekphrastic Poetry Call. Melissa Lemay shared the invitation here. Seven different photos of wind phones were given. The challenge is to write a poem inspired by one of the photos and connected to the theme. A wind phone is a disconnected phone people use to 'call' deceased loved ones.

For dVerse's Haibun Monday, Merril D. Smith encourages us to travel through time. She challenges us to write about our past, imagine our future, or create a time-travel tale. A haibun is a paragraph of prose and a haiku. She also gave us some paint chip colors to inspire us. I've bolded and italicized the colors I chose to use, which were caviar, freshwater, and golden plumeria. The plumeria flower symbolizes love, beauty, and new beginnings. In Buddhism, it represents immortality. The Mayans connected the flowers with life and birth, and since I just visited the Mayan ruins, it felt perfect for my haibun.

After reading both these prompts, a memory came to mind of how I first learned I was pregnant. I had great difficulty getting pregnant. An infertility specialist told me I had a one percent chance of getting pregnant on my own. I chose to try artificial insemination. The first time, I had five eggs and none took. I was devastated. The second time, I had four eggs, and I was blessed with my miracle baby. Except for the setting of my dream in the haibun (which was modified for the prompt), the poem below is how I learned that I carried my son within me.

(Wind Phone 5)

The Messenger

Weary, I lay on my side and hugged my stomach, praying my next doctor's appointment would bring a celebration instead of another disappointment. My heavy lids closed as the weight of my worries dragged me into a deep sleep. I found myself in a forest, facing the cutest antique, wooden phone. It reminded me of simpler times, when my grandfather was alive and healthy and when women easily became pregnant. I read the placard and hesitantly picked up the receiver. Winding up the phone, I closed my eyes and listened. And there is was! The same wooo-wooo-wooo my grandfather would make as he placed his hands behind his back to try to trick me in picking the wrong hand when he showed them to me. I smiled, recalling the various prizes he presented to me - coffee candy, dollar bills, and butterscotch candies. Oh, how I missed him!

"Wooo-wooo-wooo," I heard again, but it came not from the phone but from my other ear. Opening my eyes, I turned away from the phone and saw my abuelo, my grandfather, in the distance, walking along the trail toward me, carrying something in his long, lanky arms. Shaking, I placed the receiver in its holder and turned toward my grandfather. He wore the same blackened, caviar-colored shades he had always worn after his eyesight failed him. His smile radiated as he approached me. Before I could hug him, he presented me with the bundle in his arms, his newest gift to me. Tears slipped down my face as I cradled a beautiful baby boy, swaddled peacefully in a freshwater-blue blanket. I closed my eyes as my grandfather's calloused hand caressed my cheek and wiped away my tears, and when I opened them, he was gone, leaving me cradling my future son. Awaking from my dream, I wiped away my tears and caressed my stomach.

a work in progress

new golden plumeria

always worth the wait

Would you like to write for either of these prompts? Click the links below:

Garden of Neuro Institute's Carried by the Wind: Conversations Between Here and After Ekphrastic Poetry Call

dVerse's Haibun Monday