autumn sunset
the last swallow splits
a leafless sky

© Rachel Sutcliffe (1977 – 2019) (UK)
Chanokeburi blog, Selected Poems, November 15th, 2017

This haiku brings about a feeling of wabi-sabi to me. The sky is clear to view through a leafless vantage point. However, there is one swallow—a swift, small bird, seemingly splitting the sky with the sharp edges of its structure. The word “last” is interesting here, as it could refer to an autumn migration, and this being a swallow that lagged behind. It could also mean that there were a bunch of swallows in the sky, yet now there is only one, and as its final act, it splits the sky (metaphorically, but seemingly real in the poet’s perception).

At first, I thought “leafless” was not necessary, as “autumn” was mentioned. However, without “leafless” we could not know if it was deep or late autumn and could not visualize the scene as well without it. The “swallow” is connected to many seasons, and in autumn, swallows migrate, as mentioned before. So, there is also no conflict with “swallow.”

If I was writing this haiku, I might have added a dash after line one but not adding it does not hurt it. In fact, a dash or any punctuation is not called for in this haiku. In terms of sound, this is a melodious poem. The first line exploits the “t” letter judiciously, giving a sense of quietness and solemnness. The last two lines’ use of “l” expresses the circling and diving movements of swallows to me, and the many “s” letters throughout the haiku brings about a feeling of starkness.

Ultimately, since Rachel had an incurable immune disorder, and often she used her poetry as a form of therapy, I believe she employed symbolism to refer to herself in her poems. Perhaps this haiku is about her impending death (autumn sunset), there not being much of life left within her, (leafless sky), and her making a final act (splitting the sky). It denotes a sadness but also a power from something seemingly small and delicate.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Everything in this ku recalls the idea of an end, as Nicholas wonderfully has explained in his keen analysis. A late autumn, with a leafless sky, and the last swallow, which makes us definitely think about a forthcoming winter, is pointing to a motionless future.

The swallow, in its loneliness, is belated in leaving, although all the signs of winter are clearly pushing the bird to do it… As if something didn’t let the cute bird follow the others who have already gone…

The invisible line traced by the bird seems to separate who stays from who goes. As in physics, space and time are variables of the same function. It seams also that time is drawn by the swallow’s flight while crossing the space of the sky, and telling on Earth of an ended time for who has to go away, forever.

But, surprisingly, not confirming all this, the poet, who has written this haiku just one year before leaving this world so early, still can fly in the space of the sky inside our hearts and never leave us with her poetry, in a never ending time to tell…

Rest in peace, dear Rachel, and thank you for your poems, for what you have been and still are for us.

– Lucia Fontana (Italy)

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