Why the Haiku?
If you’ve been following along in the early going of this blog, you’ve likely noticed that the majority of the poetry I have been inspired to write over the last month has been in the form of a haiku or a tanka.
Briefly, for those unfamiliar with these two Japanese forms of poetry, a haiku is a poem consisting of seventeen syllables, divided into three lines. The first line is five syllables, the second line is seven, and the third line is another five. Typically, a haiku attempts to describe images of the natural world.
A tanka is the haiku’s slightly longer cousin. It consists of five lines. The first and third lines contain five syllables, and the others consist of seven, making thirty-one syllables in all. A tanka traditionally gives a complete picture of an event or mood.
Those who know me well are aware that I am a man prone to deep and spiraling thought, and that my thought life can often be messy and prone to throw me into bouts of stress or despair.
In friendship, I tend to be a wordy man. I can talk for hours about the things that are occupying my mind, and can often stir myself up into frustration.
The haiku and the tanka have been a gift from God in these areas.
These poetry formats have forced me to do work with whatever thoughts and emotions I am wrestling with, and to find a way to boil them down and express them in seventeen to thirty-one syllables.
It forces me to get at the heart of what I’m working through, and it has been exceptionally healthy and helpful for me.
Take for example today’s poem, entitled, “Peace Keepers.” Wrestling with 1000 emotions in response to the murder of George Floyd, I sat down and wrote a haiku;
”Please, please. I can’t breathe,”
George Floyd and Eric Garner
cried to peacekeepers.
Limited to just 5, 7, and 5 syllables to say what I was feeling, this is what made it onto the page. Reading back over my 17 syllables, I was able to make sense of my emotions and interpret the cry of my heart.
”Please, please. I can’t breathe,” — I weep over these words. Both the literal last words of a man now dead, and the symbolic words of a continuously unheard cry for help.
George Floyd and Eric Garner — This is not one man’s cry. This is a loud drumbeat of a groan from a multitude of people sharing in the same cry with no help on the way.
cried to peacekeepers. — and there is a hopelessness when the ones who are supposed to help when we are in distress are the very ones causing the distress.
Contained in 17 syllables is the distress of my heart. A man is dead. He died crying for help. He is not the first. Many share his cry. And where can they turn when the people we’re supposed to call for help are the ones killing them?
Making sense of grief doesn’t make it okay. But now I know what I’m praying about.
If you are like me and your heart is a mystery to you when you’re in distress, perhaps give poetry a try. Anyone can write a haiku. You might be surprised at how helpful it can be to help you process your thought life.
