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Editor's
Choice - Haiku |
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A
progression of events: rensaku |
A
Selection of One Haiku
Susumu Takiguchi
In
this issue, I have taken an exception and chosen three haiku poems which form a
trilogy, instead of the usual one haiku to comment on. Haiku evolves and
develops constantly as it should. The way haiku poems are presented or formatted
is also evolving. Such devices as sequences and series or “rensaku” are all
welcome phenomena.
Here,
Allen M. Terdiman presents another device which deserves to be explored and
developed:
A
TRILOGY
1 a misty day--
dad at the airport
slumped in a wheelchair
2 hospital at dusk
dad's unfocused eyes
stubble on his chin
3 the hospice
in the middle of my
story
dad takes his last
breath
Allen
M. Terdiman
Each
poem is excellent in its own right. However, put together, the whole trilogy
explodes. The emotion it induces in the reader is overwhelming. It is no
exaggeration to assert that the power of the trilogy to move is comparable to
that of Masaoka Shiki’s haiku about his own conditions.
The
marriage between the poet as a chronicler of the event and the poet as a human
being who is in the act of taking care of his dying father is amazing. Yes, the
poet is right in the haiku and it is good. The change of places from [somewhere…home,
presumably] to the airport, the hospital and eventually the hospice gives a
nail-biting sense of the progression of events, including unsaid locations and
situations, i.e. the journey by air to a distant city where their hospital is
situated, the life in the hospital, discharge and the journey from there to the
hospice which is presumably located in a different place, and finally the last
journey of no return for the poet’s beloved.
The
intense relationship between father and son, the drama of the final chapter of
the father’s life and son’s witnessing of it and the flow of time and
history from one generation to another, over a few weeks or months, are
adequately depicted by these three mere short verses. This is a heavy and
serious stuff, which makes the superficial application of the so-called “Haiku
Moment” almost frivolous. True embodiment of the “Haiku Moment”, which is
deep and electric, is but gold dust and hidden from defective eyes.
I
like to think that these haiku poems came to Terdiman naturally, rather than him
toiling and moiling over their creation. Either way, the results are stunningly
effective and serenely beautiful. Is Terdiman a wordsmith? Like a superb stage
set, “a misty day”, “at dusk” and “last breath” provide atmospheric
effect and background. The perfect choice of words and phrases, “slumped”,
“unfocused eyes” and “in the middle of my story” say it all. Each haiku
is charged with the author’s high, but controlled emotion and his love for his
father is palpable. There is absolutely no sentimentalism. There is no wallowing
in despair or grief. On the contrary, one sees a hint of detachment, resignation
and even a faint sense of humour, especially in such words as “slumped” or
“stubble”. That is haiku. It is an essence of haiku as opposed to tanka or
any other sentimental forms of poetry.
In
Japan, youth is a symbol of immaturity. Maturity is “silver”. However, “karete-iru”
or “kotan” (witheredness, elegant simplicity) is “golden”. Haiku is
mostly this “witheredness”. Herein lies the aesthetic of “wabi” and “sabi”.
Terdiman deals with one of the most serious and difficult subjects of our life,
i.e. death, and yet he has arrived at this “witheredness”, an essence of
haiku. Of course the Japanese haiku has also dealt with exuberance of life:
spring grasses, cherry blossom or juicy fruit. It has also dealt with
straightforward beauty such as the beauty of flowers or Mt. Fuji. However,
superimposed on such sense of beauty is the beauty of decay, scarcity, things
missing or lost, and ultimately death –- the realm of nihilism, or belief in
nothingness.
Terdiman
is not a Japanese. And yet he has made a particular sense of beauty created in
Japan universal. He is genuine. He should be celebrated.
