Kathryn Liebowitz

Beatitude

On a narrow side street in the West Village, B and I run into an acquaintance from the Mehar Baba study group, whose manic delivery and tap-dancing eyes pull me into the drama of his life. His smile belongs to the child I will never have. As his stories spiral and climb, the sky darkens. He almost died three times, he tells us, before he found God. I doubt I’ve suffered enough to qualify for deliverance, yet when B says we must get going, his voice sounds far away, and the pavement feels uneven under my feet.

taking my blood
into the next life
mosquito

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About the Author

The practice of haiku and related forms brings Kathryn Liebowitz full circle reviving her love of the minimal, the spare, and the fragmented.  When not at her desk, Kathryn can be found walking the woodland trails near the home she shares with her husband in Groton, Massachusetts, or rock-hopping on the coast of Maine.