haibun | pictured words

March 8, 2026

Connecting Neighbor with Neighbour

Photo by Griffin Wooldridge on Pexels.com

Connecting Neighbor with Neighbour

Completed in 1929, the remarkable Ambassador Bridge over the Detroit River is about a one-and-a-half-mile suspension bridge that connects the U.S.A.’s Detroit, Michigan with Canada’s Windsor, Ontario. Being likely the most unobservant person you’ve ever (or maybe never) met, it amazes me that I’ve never found myself unintentionally on the entrance ramp. I’d have approximately 7500 feet to contemplate how to handle my situation upon arrival. My chances of being prepared, dignified, and self-assured are nearly nada.

“Hi! Give me a hug!
Finally, we meet! And me,
without my passport.”

© Marie Elena Good 2026

2 Comments

March 1, 2026

Welcome, then Watch

Welcome, then Watch

Women who are new to our country, culture, and language enter Miss Tatyana’s classroom for their first day of school. For many, it is their first day of school, ever. They enter a clean, well-lit, lovely room. They are greeted with warm, smiling eyes, and an offer of tea. They see words they can’t read, written on a large whiteboard, “I didn’t come here to teach you. I came here to love you. Love will teach you.” These words, from ancient Indian scripture, speak the heart of their new teacher. She translates the words to their own language, and watches as their nerves visibly ease. They hug, love in return, and begin to learn.

When welcomed inside
and planted in prepared soil,
non-native plants thrive.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

1 Comment

January 18, 2026

“We have only today. Let us begin.” ~ Mother Teresa

You know the saying: “There aren’t enough hours in a day.” For me, it seems true. Whether I’m swamped or have a relatively clear schedule, tasks sit languidly. Then there’s, “God gave them more than 24 hours in a day.” This isn’t a saying. It is simply what my husband and I tell each other regarding a few people we intimately know. These are people whose eyes appear to focus on the manifold good God seems to ask of them. Their hands and feet don’t falter. They accomplish more in one day than I do in perhaps a month. Evidently time is of no concern when motivated hearts are in sync with God’s own.

“She would have helped
had she but found the time,”
the saddest stone cries.

1 Comment

June 8, 2025

IF YOU FEED THEM, THEY WILL COME

Photos by Keith R. Good, who attracts and cares for our birds 

IF YOU FEED THEM, THEY WILL COME

Aging comes with what seems almost an expectation:  Bird beguilement. But my own love of birds began in junior high on Audubon Lane, where pheasants favored our backyard. And though those days have long passed, I can still enjoy the crimson male cardinal singing to his autumn-color lifelong partner. Our bluejays, if not for being common, would be coveted. I’m captivated by the bold ladderback and bright red splash on the red belly woodpecker.  The soft sorrowing song of mourning doves does not sadden me in the least. It makes me smile.  I giggle at the quirky little honk of the nuthatch as he darts up and down our trees. I find the cheerful little black-capped chickadee entirely enchanting.   Goldfinches, bright as lemons, titter as they sail the air as though on waves. When we hear the intricate trill of tiny wrens, we know spring has entered.  Orange orioles take our breath away with their arrival. And, of course, the minute emerald body and ruby throat of the hummer is electrifying. These and countless more captivate and delight us. They make our home, home.

Doing what we can
to attract the vocalists
that color our yard. 

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

4 Comments

April 13, 2025

As I Stop at the Light

As I Stop at the Light

She, with little to her name, fumbles a moment in her purse, rolls down her window, and hands money to the man with the sign she can’t read. He thanks her, and says, “God bless you.” All she understands is his smile, which she returns with a nod of her head. She rolls up her window. I place my hand on her shoulder. She smiles at me, and I at her.

And how could I have
immediately known her,
if not for the light.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

1 Comment

April 6, 2025

Untitled haibun-like firehose

this not a trickle but a wide-open firehose that is not meant to douse flames but to disorient the American people leaving us reeling feeling discounted disregarded overlooked overwhelmed overpowered and overthrown (overthrown?) unquestionably and categorically overthrown and now so unrecognizable my country looks far more distorted than even what I see through my wrinkled retina and make no mistake this firehose is intentional gish gallop in its inundation and devastation and

How can one stall a
strategic tsunami with
a spoon and a sponge?

2 Comments

January 26, 2025

I PACE, AS I FACE MY GOD

I PACE, AS I FACE MY GOD

Lamenting. Praying for His intervention. Seeking Him through tears that feel like they could flood my floor. I contemplate how my Jesus, co-Creator and sovereign over all of it, describes Himself as “gentle and lowly of heart.” It’s not part of who He is, it is who He is. Gentle and lowly is His driving force. It is the force behind His strength. It is His very being. I pray this for my country. I beg this for my country. May our heartbeat become gentle. Lowly. May this be our strength, who we are, and how we are known.

One man. One moment.
Hearts ruptured. Lives imperiled.
One swipe of a pen.

2 Comments

April 22, 2024

AND THIS

Image credit: Pexels

My son and I sit together with his little cat family in his humble Cleveland apartment. He grabs his book of Hubble Telescope photos. He is fascinated with the universe and knows a great deal more about it than I do. He turns page after page, oohing and ahh’ing over the astounding beauty. Immensity. Luminosity. Each stunning photo compels him to share with me what he knows, and launches him to the next. I am enjoying hearing the excitement in his swelling voice as we explore multiple moons and distant galaxies.

Then, the Milky Way.
His eyes grow tender. Voice, soft.
“And this? This is home.”

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

2 Comments

June 6, 2023

STILL

During intensely busy seasons in life, sudden slight ailments can present a crucial stillness … moments to consider that which goes unnoticed in life’s rush. My ears receive the sound of soft breeze outside my window. Birdsong becomes a symphony, which draws my eyes outdoors. My soul soars to blues in high places. Sparrows in the bird bath splash, relishing refreshing spray. Serenity ensues as my spirit sings praise to my God. Suddenly, I sense words slipping from my mind’s recesses, and I must shape and preserve them before they are lost. So satisfying, this necessitated pause that allows time to stop elusive words from slipping from tenuous grasp.

It isn’t illness
if the stillness that ensues
is life sustaining.

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

2 Comments

January 29, 2023

HOW TO RECOGNIZE YOURSELF

How to Recognize Yourself

In somewhat of a hurry, she quickens her steps. Her eyes shift right as her side vision catches a glimpse of scurried movement in a store window.  In what seems like a nanosecond, her eyes are looking ahead of her again.  Just like that, her pace slows drastically, as her eyes again shift right in a nearly imperceivable attempt to pull themselves together.  “No,” they try to convince themselves, “that is not her.  That is not us.”  She allows herself to come to a full stop.  She turns to face the window, to stare into those eyes that betray her.  The woman staring back at her has sparse brows, and even sparser lips.  Her shoulders droop, negating the fact that she feels erect.  Her upper arms sag.  She wears sensible shoes.  She doesn’t know what the big hurry was.

Eyes search for signs of
former beauty.  Christ reminds  
us, we are His bride.

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

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