Labor Day
the shadow
of Dad’s headstone

Presence 56, autumn issue, 2016

© Jennifer Hambrick (USA)

The commentary is by two writers: Jacob Salzer and Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Jennifer has provided a vivid haiku that resonates within us for a long time. We celebrate Labor Day as a day of remembrance, and in this haiku, it conjures up deep feelings of gratitude for the many years that her dad worked to support a family, provide a roof over her head, and bring food to her table. At the same time, Labor Day can stimulate sadness if we go back in time and recall the difficult, (and even harsh) working conditions of our previous generations.

This haiku provides that angle of interpretation: her dad worked so hard (in perhaps a difficult environment), his physical labor and/or environment may have (directly or indirectly) contributed to his death. There is sadness not knowing how old her dad was when he passed away, or exactly how he passed away. In that sense, this haiku may also shed some light on our current working conditions. How many workers are exposed to daily hazards, such as air and water pollution? How safe is our current work environment? “The shadow of Dad’s headstone” is symbolic of the length of  her dad’s life and of human life. Shadows are also cooler in temperature, and this only adds to the stark, vivid imagery.

– Jacob Salzer

To add to what Jacob wrote, the elongation of the shadow could have pressed the emotions of Jennifer when she saw it. The shadow could have been as long as her father was, and this could have magnified the sadness she felt from her father’s passing. In this way, “labor” could be a play on words, like the shadow was laboring to witness.

In addition, the capitalization of “Dad” strikes me as interesting. It seems to give prominence to him as somehow living, and in combination with “headstone” not just “grave,” makes this haiku more personable.

The sound of the haiku also enhances the mood. The letter “o”elongates the reading of the haiku, illustrating a laboring process. The letter “a” gives a starkness to the reading, and brings the reader more into the moment described.

The brief lines give this haiku a pace that is impacting. The last line being much longer than the other lines gives an impression of the long shadow. Also, with the lack of punctuation, the two subjects blend more together.

An emotional and surprising haiku, the author created a poignant mood and image without directly referencing it. This is not an intellectual haiku, but one that relies more on intuition to spread its meaning.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

abandoned house
I strike the bell
with my shadow

Wild Plum, 2.1, Spring & Summer Issue, March 1st, 2016

© Ken Sawitri (Indonesia)

The surprise in the last line is not just there for shock, but also for its image. It conjures a mood of intense loneliness.

“Shadow” could be physical or metaphorical. It could be a play of perception, or an introspection on the past or present misery that came to the house or the narrator.

The action (or imagination of the action) of striking the bell brings the house back to life, occupying it with sound. However, this occupation only increases its somber mood, as it is even more obvious that no one lives there anymore.

In reality, the bell probably was not rung, but the narrator only touched the bell with her shadow (showing that even in the possible reluctance to ring the bell, the shadow did it for him). Houses have characters and lives of their own, and only touching the doorbell with her shadow is in a sense displaying the lonely atmosphere the house emits.

The image of the shadow touching the doorbell also shows a sense of reflection about times past, and maybe that the narrator is thinking of how she could have done something different to change the situation that made this house abandoned.

Getting more into the technical side, I think the lack of punctuation adds to the atmosphere of abandonment. The somber pace of the lines also points to the mood.

The two most prominent sounds in the haiku come from the letters “s” and “o.” The letter “s” gives way to the sound of “shhh,” kind of like a shadow brushing up against the doorbell (though shadows don’t make sounds, but in our imagination they can). The letter “o” puts more emphasis on the melancholy mood.

Starting from an initial surprise, the haiku leads to introspection and wonder about the sad state of one’s past that led to the present, and what we could have done to avoid our suffering. Though the haiku appears simple, it revs up our imagination through imagery and sound.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Italian original:

cachi maturo—
una luna è una luna
anche stasera

English translation:

ripe persimmon—
moon’s a moon
too tonight

© Angiola Inglese (Italy)

Persimmons are the favorite fruit of many people (including my wife) for their sweetness and honey flavor. They are also quite bulbous and charming to look it.

To compare a persimmon to the moon is apt. Not only are they both round, they both are well admired. Persimmons are often referred to as “the fruit of the gods” and their trees can reach up to 70 feet. The moon is also epic in its nature: a variety of cultures have moon-viewing traditions to glimpse at its beauty, but it is also associated with many spiritual and even religious traditions.

But to get to the essence of this haiku, I believe the author is saying, “Yes, the ripe persimmon is grand, but don’t forget about the moon, which is quite similar to this persimmon.”

We can look at this essence at different angles. One could be that we should not get lost in the mundane, and keep our attention rather on the spiritual. Another interpretation could be: don’t give heed to what is ephemeral, but rather to what is eternal. Yet another way to interpret it is that while we enjoy one thing, don’t forget about everything else that exists—have care and compassion for all life at all times. It is a sense of balance in a world of allure—kind of like the idea of the “floating world” in historical Japanese literature.

And with the reference to the ripe permission, we can probably guess the moon in the haiku is a full moon. Also, we can take a gander at the season: persimmons are in season from October through February. So much is said in this haiku through so few words. This is one sign that a haiku has done its job.

Looking at the sound, at least in the English translation, the most distinct sounds are in the letters “i” and “o.” In my opinion, the “i” sound adds to the mood of observation of the moon and persimmon, and the “o” sound gives a hypnotic feel to the haiku, allowing to feel the union of the moon and persimmon a bit more.

With many interpretations available through its simplicity, this haiku is a fine example of how to say a lot with just a few words.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)