Haiku Drash

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Ekev from 2013

The second line of this haiku originally read “the essential if-then clause”, but today I am wondering is there always a contractual if-then in love? Perhaps not in all relationships. Something to ponder…

Struggling to embrace
This essential if-then clause
At the heart of love.

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Va'etchanan from 2014

So many references to our children and our children’s children in this portion….

If only. Then, yes.
A love song to our children
Weaving through this text.

Saturday, August 3, 2019

D'varim from 2018

The retelling of our story of exodus and settling begins in this portion. How painful to discover that this haiku written in response to an ancient text is so prescient and relevant to our everyday immigration conversations. I feel certain that the fact that my husband was just approved for US citizenship this week also influenced the way I read this poem this year.

An unfolding tale
Of who inhabits this land.
And of when and why.

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How to Create a Haiku Drash

A traditional haiku has three lines with a specific number of syllables in each line: 5-7-5

A traditional haiku includes a "seasonal word", something that indicates the season. Standard words like snow, beach, scarf, groundhog would be examples. In a Haiku Drash, the "seasonal word" is the name of the Torah portion. So, all Haiku Drash have the same basic title.

Haiku Drash must include a "teaching", some kind of insight or suggestion on how to be mindful, responsible, spiritual, ethical, conscientious, kind, compassionate, peaceful, gentle, aware participants in the extraordinary opportunity to be present in this universe.

We'll follow the annual Torah reading cycle, but if you get inspired and want to write on something else, send it to haikudrash@gmail.com. We'll post it when we get to that Torah portion. Be sure to put the name of the Parasha!

Haiku and Me

Why Haiku?

My relationship with haiku began with my 5th grade teacher. While I remember the names of most of my elementary school teachers, I remember very little about what they taught me. Cecil Munsey is different. It was in his class that I first learned of the exquisite, miniature poetry of Japan known as haiku.

As a child, I had a fascination with certain "things Japanese." My parents had the great opportunity to design their own gardens around the house they purchased when I was in 3rd grade. The family often made adventures to the local plant nursery to see what kinds of plants were available, what might fit with their vision and so on. I loved these trips because the nursery always had a crimson Japanese bridge somewhere in the demonstration gardens. I loved walking back and forth across this bridge.

Fast forward many, many years and I am an undergraduate student at Stanford University. I'm a Religious Studies major and I decide to take a class exploring religious poetry. I have always loved poetry, so this seems like a perfect class for me. Among other poetic expressions I encounter in this class taught by Edwin Good and (at that time his TA, David Barnhill), was the work of the great Japanese haiku composer- Basho.

In 1981, I moved to Japan to explore my fascination with its language, culture and poetry. Settling in to a life in Kyoto, I was teaching English, learning to play the koto (Japanese zither/harp) and building my Japanese language skills. I met an older woman who was interested in expanding her English skills. She was also an avid haiku fan. She introduced me to the Kyoto Haiku Club, a gathering of (very) senior people who wrote, critiqued, and published contemporary haiku.

I joined the group (I'm sure I was a novelty) and we met monthly. After a few sessions, we began a discussion of the upcoming annual haiku publication. Each of us was encouraged to contribute a haiku that might be evaluated by the judges as meriting inclusion in the magazine.

Novice that I was, I submitted a haiku. Written in Japanese! It was accepted and was published in the annual club journal. It is somewhere in my house, but I have moved so many times, I am not sure where I can find that magazine any more. I know that the haiku had to do with Kamikochi -- a primary summer camping destination in the Japan Alps -- and colorful tents, seasonal words that indicated it was summer.

It has long been my dream to write a poem for each Torah portion. I began with compositions to honor the B'nei Mitzvah of my nephews. Perhaps some day I will complete that dream. For the time being, these Haiku Drash are a spiritual and intellectual challenge for me that gives me great fulfillment. I encourage you to read each Torah portion, write a Haiku Drash and share it with us all.