We were lucky enough to be invited to the most lovely, organic, outdoor Passover Seder on Friday night. Lucky especially since we're not at all Jewish.
But these friends take their generosity seriously, so there we were — sitting at one of four long tables — a peach tree heavy with fruit on one side — a buffet laden with love on the other — and scripts.
We read around and around the tables — those who know Hebrew and those who don't, the young and the old, the shy and the dramatic. The words were punctuated by song — from gospel to reggae — all live — and sips of wine and bits of matzah along the way.
Haiku 13
4/13/2012
egg, wine, bitter greens
we are the mixed multitudes,
we have time to rise
While I'm writing a haiku everyday this month, I'm trying not to be online much over the weekends, so I'll usually post my Saturday and Sunday poems on Monday.
Thus, this post:
Haiku 7
4/7/2012
creek water running —
is the drought really over?
all the birds say yes
Haiku 8
4/8/2012
that big, fat, full moon
echoed in the yolks of eggs;
breakfast's a fresh start
Personally, my yearly April pleasure is a daily haiku. It is both very manageable and very intentional, and I find myself thinking about words and lines and turns and surprises throughout the day. This morning, for example, started early for me and my sweet new pooch. Just us and the moon and a few haiku…
Haiku 6 (plus 2) 4/6/2012
moon hung like a prop stretches shadows long and dark; dog raises hackles
blossoms on the street — pup thinks they might be tasty but they're for the birds
who tipped the trashcan — fat raccoon with kits to feed? reuse, recycle
We have a teen and a pre-teen at our house.
We think they're both pretty amazing.
Thoughtful, funny, smart…
Tender, creative, full of heart…
I mean, we've always thought that and they've just spent the past 11-13 years confirming it all.
Somedays, they reveal new stuff.
Accidentally.
And we glimpse not just who they are, but who they're becoming.
Last night my teen and I went together to a memorial service for a classmate of hers who died after 10 courageous years of navigating the craziness of Cancerland. He was way too young, and the hillside was full of middle schoolers holding little white candles and crying openly. It was the most painful and beautiful thing.
And there was my girl, 13 years old and taller than I am, tears streaked down her cheeks, walking right up to Liam's mother afterwards — having never met her before — to say something — I couldn't hear what — and to hug her. And then we drove home, holding hands, and she proceeded to do hours of homework and to bake hotcross buns, of all things, until the wee hours of the morning.
I have spent most of my life trying to figure out how to hold the good, the bad and the determined in my singular self, and my daughter, less than a third my age, is integrating it all, sage-like. I am pretty much in awe.
Haiku 5
4/5/2012
Hair like a curtain
Hiding from math or from me?
She looks up, moon bright.
OK, friends…
A few of you have messaged me asking for a quick little refresher on the art of haiku.
I think we might need to be Japanese to truly understand and embody the form, but here are the basics on the English variation:
1. Three lines, often (but not always) of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables again. The syllabics rule is a strictly Western one, but I like to use it to give me some defined parameters to work within. Some people just prefer to think of haiku as "breath-length," which is lovely, too.
2. The use of a kigo, or seasonal reference — or some awareness of the natural world.
3. The use of a kireji, or cutting word, or a turning point or juxtaposition or a-ha moment. This often happens at the end of the first line or the second line and, in English, this is also where we may employ punctuation — a colon or semicolon or an em dash, for example.
4. Each line usually stands alone as a complete thought or grammatical phrase, rather than flowing over into the next line.
If you love the idea of the brevity and shape, but don't want to write about cherry blossoms for a month, you can write some haiku and some senryu, which is a very similar form emphasizing human nature and relationships.
And, all that said, for me, a month of haiku isn't so much about precise alignment with these "rules", but rather a practiced attentiveness and ritual. If you choose to join me, either one day this month or 30, I encourage you to use the guidelines that work for you — that make this experience accessible and meaningful and right…
And now, without further babble, today's poem:
Haiku 2
4/2/2012
cat and cardinal
stock-still stare-down til cat wins
back to nonchalance
