Jacob D. Salzer’s river mist

On June 11, 2023 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

river mist…
the faint whispers
of a lost prophet

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)
Published in The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXIV, Number 3: September 2022

Commentary

The haiku begins with a mystery of belief or religious life. The poet may have diluted thoughts or beliefs. I see ‘river mist’ as a sign of a lack of clarity or less understanding of one’s beliefs where one’s thoughts may be covered in a mist—the discontinuity of a spiritual or religious lesson. I also see it as how directionless a person is if they have no spiritual or religious leader who can show them the path and live a modest and peaceful life. The ellipses after ‘mist’ let us pause and ponder more on things that are not clear to us, which may be misguided or misleading in many ways.

After ‘mist’, ‘faint whispers’ add more to the modification of religious practices that used to be followed by people to get inspiration and guidance for a righteous path. With time, certain voices have lost their strength, positive influence, and power which may be the cause of some worldly chaos.

I see ‘lost prophet’ here as a spiritual leader who helps us heal wounds of our soul and who inspires us as a role model to live an exemplary life full of compassion, kindness, and peace. In other words, this haiku might be implying that we don’t have much of a platform to explore and understand our spirituality currently.

— Hifsa Ashraf

The haiku begins with perhaps a spring kigo in “river mist.” Coupled with the second part of the haiku, I feel the season is early spring with the word “whispers.”

The word “mist” connects well to “whispers” and even to “lost.” It’s a strongly visual haiku in that respect. You can see the mist move about the river, like the whispers of a lost prophet. The juxtaposition shows a comparison between nature and spirituality. It could be that the mist is the whispers themselves, or that the whispers are simply present in the river mist.

The idea of a lost prophet is intriguing. It could be that a prophet has passed away, is physically lost, or that the people have stopped listening to them.

Looking at the punctuation, the ellipses act as a kireji or cutting word that as Hifsa noted, allows us to pause and imagine the mist floating over the river. The haiku is stronger because of this effect.

The sense of sound in this haiku is something to pay keen attention to as well. The letter “r” struck me as the most important. It gave me the feeling of a moving river. Overall, the haiku has a soft reading to it that is reminiscent of whispers.

In terms of pacing, the haiku follows the standard English-language format of a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line to approximate the original rhythm of Japanese haiku.

Salzer has done a fine job to combine spirituality, nature, and human limitations.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

The first interpretation I was going for is the lost prophet signifies he or she has physically passed away. As the prophet takes their last breath, all that’s left of his/her life are faint whispers, Mother Earth, the endless river, and the mist. The mist could symbolize their spirit passing away/slowly evaporating into sunlight as the river of life flows on. When I saw the river mist in my mind’s eye, I felt an ethereal quality right away, and this led to writing about faint whispers. I also saw the evaporating mist as a kind of transfiguration. I appreciate how mist is water in a more subtle form that becomes nameless and formless.

I also wrote ‘a lost prophet’ to describe how the prophet may feel lost in human civilization, i.e. he or she doesn’t truly feel like they belong in human society. As a result, he or she retreats to Nature and finds their true home there, to such an extent that even their own words and teachings have become indiscernible and are only heard now as faint whispers. In other words, their life and teachings could now be Silence itself. It could be that the person has lost all labels, including the word ‘prophet.’ The sound of the river and his or her voice is all that remains instead of words. But the whispers are so faint, we and maybe even the prophet cannot know what they are saying. I intentionally left that open for the reader to hear maybe faint words in his or her whispers, maybe to hear their final words, but in a very gentle way; but the real message I’m going for is not found in words at all, but in the silences and in the sound of the river, and the Great Mystery and a deep wordless Love.

In short, I wanted to describe a transition from someone being mentally pinned as ‘a prophet’ to the essence of the prophet’s Real teaching that is not found in words but in Nature and Silence. Now, the river’s mist is the whispers of the prophet, calling people back to Nature, to Real Spirit and Love. There is a mergence of identity when the prophet loses their mental labels. They are now unified with Mother Earth and the Divine Spirit as there are no longer any mental barriers. I was deeply inspired to show a wordless Love found in Nature in this haiku.

I also wrote ‘a lost prophet’ to possibly mean the person has become physically lost in Nature. The person perhaps has left behind city life for good, but they were maybe not really prepared, and got lost in Nature, leading to their physical death. This circles back to the first interpretation. As the prophet takes their last breath and says their last faint whispers with hardly any physical strength left, what survives is Mother Earth and Spirit. I wanted to show perspective too, that the founding of religions is actually not very old compared to the history of Mother Earth Herself, and that the human race and human history is actually not very old either. But the prophet also may not necessarily be religious at all. I was actually leaning more towards a spiritual prophet outside of religion whose teachings revolve around Mother Earth.

There is another darker interpretation I thought about when writing this. I saw “a lost prophet” as someone who is mentally lost, who has gotten so caught up in the ‘prophet’ label and has a kind of ‘cult’ following. Some people may follow this prophet into Nature and suffer the consequences. When this lost prophet finally dies, the hollowness of their life is revealed in the mist, and their faint whispers and corrupt words have disappeared for good.

In this haiku, I also wanted to show how all verbal words are transient. Words appear and disappear, just like the mist.

In the end, I feel Nature will endure, and the Great Spirit. The Great Mystery will last. And Silence and Love.

— Jacob D. Salzer

Painting by M. Martin Vicente

Vladislav Hristov’s no man’s land

On May 13, 2023May 13, 2023 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

no man’s land
between two graves
thin strip of grass

— Vladislav Hristov (Bulgaria)

Scarlet Dragonfly, May 20, 2022

Commentary

The first line is impactful because “no man’s land” is a term used during trench warfare (as the land between opposing trenches during a war). Such a desolate scene explains why this saying exists because no human survives in that stretch of land. However, in another sense, I think “no man’s land” could also mean a severe disconnect between humans and the Earth (i.e. it could mean two humans in this haiku didn’t feel connected with the land, but now their remains are buried in Mother Earth). Reclaiming land that was once seemingly devoid of life and labeled “no man’s land” shows the regenerative power of Mother Earth. Reincarnation also comes to mind as a possibility in the third line.

An impactful haiku that depicts the space between life & death, and between war & Nature.

— Jacob D. Salzer

The haiku starts with a strong statement of ‘no man’s land’, indicating the miseries of war. It shows how power and conflict end in nothing but annihilation. This also reminds us how irrelevant life and worldly boundaries are after the death of people in war. I also see it as a defeat where one may claim a piece of land after winning a war but that land is also used to bury victims.

‘Between two graves’ may symbolize two countries or boundaries of two countries that are doomed in a war, or destroyed enough to look like graves. I see it as the graves of unknowns who may be foes or feud but now are buried on the same land, side by side, facing the consequences of hate simultaneously.

I like the third line of this haiku which projects exactly the harsh realities and miseries that countries face due to disastrous conflicts. It shows despair, conflict, and cynicism that does not end even after a war. A ‘thin strip of grass’ may look like a sword, tongue, or the fragility of life after conflict which leads to more hatred and fear. It shows how one war leads to another where those in power do not think about martyrs or victims.

It’s a vicious cycle of hostility that goes on from one generation to another, from one country to another, and it ends nowhere but the massive destruction and death of countless precious lives.

— Hifsa Ashraf

One of the potent features of this haiku is its pivot in the second line. “between two graves” can lend to both the first and third lines. It can be read as “no man’s land between two graves/thin strip of grass” or “no man’s land/between two graves thin strip of grass.”

There is no mention or implication of a kigo (seasonal reference). Yet, kigoless haiku have been written for hundreds of years. These haiku are called muki.

In terms of toriawase, or how things are combined, we have the solemnity of the graves and the thin strip of grass. The grass, though occupying a small area, becomes enlarged in our minds. Its importance becomes significant and represents sadness and cynicism.

There is no punctuation, but this seems reasonable in order for the pivot line to work. In English-language haiku, often punctuation is omitted in favor of the line break and a pivot line.

The pacing is the standard of English-language haiku, which is a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line. This format approximates the rhythm of Japanese haiku.

Looking at the sound, the letter “a” is the most prominent. These long syllables bring gravity to the haiku. The “o”s in the poem also elongate the syllables.

Lastly, the language is simple and the composition is concise while conveying a poignant scene. Hallmarks of fine haiku.

This haiku describes something we might have seen many times but have not given its due importance. The poem also displays a relationship between the natural world and humanity, no matter how slight. Even a small connection can feel big in the eyes of the perceiver.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Painting by Giles Watson. “Wayland’s Smithy.”

Randy Brooks’ row

On March 10, 2023March 10, 2023 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku3 Comments

digging potatoes
her story reaches the end
of the row

— Randy Brooks (USA)

Commentary

I appreciate how this haiku transports me to a farm, where digging potatoes is both a source of sustenance and a way to earn a living. I also appreciate how this haiku transports me back in time before we had cellphones and were more connected with the Earth. While this haiku may seem simple at first, I see deep implications.

This haiku reminds me that words travel fast, but not always accurately. If the original story is heard by someone who tries to retell the story to someone else, the story can change subtly or more drastically from person to person. As a result, this haiku shows us the dangers of mistranslations and misunderstandings when stories are told and retold, especially by word of mouth. By the end of the row, the person may have heard a story that is much different from the original version. If this happens, there can be dissonance and profound consequences.

On the other hand, this haiku could have a positive connotation if her story is passed down accurately from person to person. Sharing stories was (and still is) a way to bond with each other and can help make the day more enjoyable too.

In Indigenous families, they have a remarkable way of preserving ancient stories by word of mouth from generation to generation. Storytelling is a deep and integral part of their culture and has continued over thousands of years. Many of their stories have also been recorded in English through books and transcripts. A good example is a book titled Indian Legends of the Pacific Northwest compiled by Ella E. Clark. I admire how Indigenous myths and legends contain important lessons that can be applied today, even though they are very old.

I want to thank Randy Brooks for writing and sharing this haiku with us. This is an important philosophical and social haiku with depth and meaning.

— Jacob D. Salzer

It’s the ambience that makes this haiku concrete, digging into one’s life and seeing its harvest. This haiku also shows the hardship of a farmer’s life who expects something good in the end. Digging potatoes can relate to garnering a reward after the toil of work—a prize in the form of energy, taste, sustenance, and memories.

‘her story’ is a turning point in this haiku. It may tell us about the life of a farmer, a housewife, a worker, or a mother who has to feed her family. Digging potatoes may be correlated to planting dreams, wishes, or memories, and waiting for the harvest season for fruitful results. In this metaphorical harvesting, support (tools) aid her in gathering what she has worked towards.

This haiku is crafted very well. The words that are used let us wander through the various stories of her life. Her story reaching the end may reflect her ageing, fatigue, departure, failure, or success. The word ‘row’ in this haiku is carefully employed. From it, we can see the multi folds of this story that may indicate a poor family relationship, hardship without reward or encouragement, certain expectations from others of the harvest, or a dispute. The other side may be the row as a path that has taken her to her destiny, which may be both good and bad. I see here the chances we are given when we work hard. It depends on the path we have taken, the decisions or choices we have made, and the resilience or patience we have shown.

With no well-defined kigo, no punctuation, and an interesting line break in the second line, this haiku is worth reading again and again. It gives much for the reader to ponder.

— Hifsa Ashraf

As Hifsa mentioned, there is no particular kigo, or seasonal reference, implied in this haiku. However, with the best times to harvest potatoes being in August to September in Illinois (where the poet lives), we could place the poem in those months. With the melancholy mood of this haiku, I feel it could be September.

There is no kireji or cut marker, but there is a grammatical shift starting in the second line. In the interaction between the two parts of the haiku, it seems the potatoes could be a metaphor for the story of the person being referenced. Perhaps, her history is hearty and rich, yet relatable.

The use of the word “row” and “end” intrigues me. I see different levels for each word to be read into. The person in question could be narrating a story until she reaches the end of the row of potatoes. Or, it could be that the woman or girl could have planted the potatoes and they are her story. This could imply her passing. While digging out the potatoes, the poet could be taking out her story, one by one.

In terms of sound, the letter “o” attracts me the most. The elongated syllables make the haiku more plaintive, matching the mood. I feel the letter “r” accentuates the seriousness of the imagery,

Looking at the pacing, the lines follow the standard for English-language haiku of a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line. This approximates the rhythm of traditional Japanese haiku.

Ultimately, it seems the most potent quality of this haiku is its white space and double meanings in its imagery. With these, the haiku resonates in unexpected ways.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky