haibun | pictured words

June 7, 2026

But … (a haibun for Toledo’s Old West End)

Image is from Toledo’s Old West End site: The Old West End

But … (a haibun for Toledo’s Old West End)

Bullets spoke yesterday near the 53^rd Annual Old West End Festival. Were you there to hear their voices pierce the annual exuberance? They say, “A picture paints a thousand words.” But the words of these bullets repainted the landscape of approximately 25 city blocks. They say, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never harm me.” But these words spilled blood. Tadeusz Borowski said, “What a curious power words have.” Bullets speak deafeningly, and their words hold power. Sometimes the power of life and death. But …

five-plus decades of
music, art, and inclusion
still have words to sing.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

Toledo’s Old West End

“America. The way it’s supposed to be: Toledo’s Old West End.” ~ American Bungalow Magazine

“Create and maintain a community atmosphere that encourages a harmonious neighborhood that celebrates diversity and inclusion and stands against racism and all other forms of discrimination.” ~ from the OWE’s Mission Statement

The 53^rd annual Old West End Festival, June 6, 2026

“Gunfire erupted Saturday near a busy street festival in Ohio, wounding at least 12 people and sending some eventgoers scrambling for cover while others rushed to help the victims.” ~ Associated Press report

Praying for our region, and especially our Old West End, those who were injured, and those who were traumatized.

OWE: Keep singing your song. ❤

3 Comments

April 6, 2026

Favorite Color

Photo by Lucas George Wendt on Pexels.com

You know how people sometimes ask what your favorite color is? It has always been so hard for me to give a firm, convincing response. The green outdoors is so life-giving that I love to bring it inside. And when I wear it, it makes my eyes look pretty green. Soft, watery blue is lovely and restful. YlnMn blue is the most magnificent color I have ever laid eyes on. It is even better than royal or cobalt. Lemony yellow is cheerful and bright. My husband likes it when I wear red, though I don’t own much. Gray is fantastic for making any imaginable color near it pop. Being my favorite season and bringing welcome childhood memories, autumn colors warm my heart. But it wasn’t until this weekend that I suddenly realized I do have an absolute favorite.

Spring’s first buds and blooms.
Snowfall. Fresh sheet of paper.
Purity and peace.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

3 Comments

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

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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.

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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.

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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

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