Haiku for Healing – Finding the Words in Haibun
Finding the words in haibun
How haibun facilitates healing is the final project of the Haiku for Healing initiative of The Haiku Foundation. It is a three-part feature including this Introductory article and two features using sample haibun and photo prompts. Considering the possibility that haibun is new to some poets, the second part will provide weekly prompts of sample haibun that show how this poetic form has helped to address post-natal depression, abandonment, child abuse and estrangement. In the third part, black and white photographs by Lavana Kray, the acclaimed haiga poet and editor, will be posted as prompts each week.
Murasaki Shikibu uses prose and waka poems in Genji *1 to bring to life her principal characters in the 11th century Heian court: the first glimpsing of their love interest, clandestine meetings, passionate union, political and matrimonial alliances, estrangement, ostracism from courtly favour, isolation and decline. She creates a palpable sense of how the lives of her protagonists are played out against the dominant and all-pervasive imperial power. The interface of prose and waka is effective in capturing the feelings and thoughts of the individuals at their most personal and vulnerable moments. One does not see the characters as some people in a far-off land and bygone times. They are individuals with their own particular longings, fears, spites, cunning, plotting and regrets. It was this that brought me to Japanese poetic forms, particularly haibun.
Basho’s haibun, “The Records of a Weather-exposed Skeleton” made a deep impression:
As I was plodding along the River Fuji, I saw a small child, hardly three years of age, crying pitifully on the bank, obviously abandoned by his parents. They must have thought this child was unable to ride through the stormy waters of life which run as wild as the rapid river itself, and that he was destined to have a life even shorter than that of the morning dew. The child looked to me as fragile as the flowers of the bush-clover that scatter at the slightest stir of the autumn wind, and it was so pitiful that I gave him what little food I had with me.
the ancient poet
who pitied monkeys for their cries
what would he say, if he saw
this child crying in the autumn wind? *2
The abandonment of a sickly child reminded me of the Japanese folklore about oyasute (“abandoning a parent”) where an infirm and old relative is taken to a mountain or a desolate place and left to die. Basho describes the tragic encounter in an understated way making it all the more raw and affecting.
Another haibun that moved me greatly is the one Issa wrote about his daughter, Sato, who died of smallpox in her childhood. *3 That a haibun poet could write about such a visceral experience was an eye-opener. Infant mortality touches a chord for me, because until the 1980s many in Bhutan, including my parents, lost their infants to childhood diseases. My mother could not bring herself to speak of the two daughters who died in infancy. It was her life-long solitary grief. Even now miscarriages, stillbirths and post-natal depression affect many families.
The interweaving of prose passages of descriptions with haiku, as points of accents of emotion and thought, in haibun brings to mind the local Bhutanese loze oral tradition. The loze is a declamatory genre, similar to the ballad, in which a protagonist of common descent expresses their thoughts on the conflict between the duties to the state and monastic power and their own aspirations. One of the most popular loze is The Songs of Pemi Tshewang Tashi which recounts the sorrow and reluctance of Tshewang Tashi leaving his wife and village to go into battle and to his death on behalf of his regional overlord. Another loze, The Songs of Gyalong Sumdar Tashi, tells of the burden of a young man, Sumdar Tashi, having to leave his home and family to fulfil the monastic-tax obligation to the state. In the loze, much like as in the haibun, the prose passages set the scene of an arduous journey (Tshewang Tashi) or the home (Sumdar Tashi) in vivid details and then these are interwoven with bursts of songs of regret, conflict and yearning. For me, the role of the haiku in a haibun similarly provides such interlinking highlights of thought and feeling. When I began to study haibun in early 2000, I had not read many English-language haibun about death. But its spirit of evoking a specific moment, person or place with a sparseness of language appealed to me as a possible means to explore acutely felt experiences which are intimate and intense.
Obituary for Vanished Hope
Like the Snow Lotus in the mountain wind, you’ve gone. That dawn, unable to sleep, I tiptoed to the veranda stippled by gossamer rifts of the moon. I felt you for the first time. Your nascent warmth seeped to my cold fingers. No scan could have picked you then. My heart beat to a new rhythm. Did the gods envy our un-shareable love? They sought their malicious revenge. You bled from my womb.
December rain—
a single Acer leaf floats
to the heap below *4
Domestic and sexual violence against women and children and the abandonment of infants, issues which have impacted the lives of many whom I know, resonate with me. Here too, haibun gives me the potential to tentatively address these challenges.
Late Nascence
She recognises him in the dim light of autumn twilight in his guise of the returnee: that muscled curve of shoulder and the large slab of hands, the reek of tobacco and that unwavering hold of head.
His eyes punch her.
She leans against the door, determined not to speak and betray her thoughts. Was it for this brutish stranger that she waited, night after night? Was it for him she squandered twenty years, nourishing his needs, starving her dreams?
‘I’m home,’ he says brushing past her into the room.
‘Home?’ she echoes, her voice sounding as if it comes from a distance, as if someone else’s. The window grille casts shadows on the floor like a cage. A bulbul that sings at dusk in the hedges flicks its tail and flies away. Suddenly, the glossy leaves of the persimmon in the yard seem dark and lustreless.
prison fence —
as if caught on the barbs
mist hangs in shreds *5
The haibun has also enabled me to write about the numbing isolation of facing the prospect of death should the clinical diagnosis and procedure portend something beyond treatment.
Everything and Nothing
The biopsy shows the cysts have grown but the specialist can’t be sure if these are carcinoma until he operates. How is she to tell her fourteen-year-old?
Into sleepless nights she peruses the Natural Liberation: Padma-sambhava’s Teachings on the Six Bardos. Will she recognise the radiance of the ‘Clear Light’? What if she is waylaid by the apparitions of her own fear, anger and guilt? It has been a while since she last visited the family guru or even made offerings at the ancestral shrine. She bookmarks the page with a hair tie and closes her eyes.
wan light
the mildewed prayer beads
at her bedsidedawn birdsong
something in a dream
she can’t recall *6
Robert Macfarlane, the acclaimed British writer says, “. . . to understand light you need first to have been buried in the deep-down dark.” *7 It is the medium of haibun that helped me journey from the “deep-down dark” of grief, anguish and loss towards some light.
Sonam Chhoki
Notes
*1. The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu, translated and with an introduction by Edward G. Seidensticker, Penguin Books, England, 1981.
*2. The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches by Matsuo Bashō, translated and with an introduction by Nobuyuki Yuasa, Penguin Books, England, 1966.
*3. The Year of My Life: A Translation of Issa’s Oraga Haru by Nobuyuki Yuasa, Second Edition, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1972.
*4. A Hundred Gourds 3:2 March 2014.
*5. A Hundred Gourds 3:3 June 2014.
*6. Haibun Today, Volume 12, Number 2, June 2018.
*7. Underland: A Deep Time Journey, Robert Macfarlane, Penguin Books, UK, 2020.
If you have any questions about Haiku for Healing, please use the Haiku for Healing contact form on our Contact page.
Coming up on Monday, 19th October:
Week 1 haibun writing prompt
Bio
Sonam Chhoki finds the Japanese short-form poetry resonates with her Tibetan Buddhist upbringing. She is inspired by her father, Sonam Gyamtsho, the architect of Bhutan’s non-monastic modern education and by her mother, Chhoden Jangmu, who taught her: “Being a girl doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.” She is the principal editor, and co-editor of haibun for the online journal of Japanese short forms, cattails.
Her chapbook of haibun, The Lure of the Threshold was published in May 2021. Mapping Absences, a collaboration of haibun, tan bun and tanka prose with Mike Montreuil was published in 2019. Another collaboration with Geethanjali Rajan: Unexpected Gift was published in November 2021. She organised a year-long email course in 2024 for The Haiku Foundation’s Haiku for Parkinson’s project.
Read past Haiku for Healing posts here.
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Comments (22)
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Hi Sonam, I appreciated the opportunity to read your personal writing, finding the thoughts and emotions very raw; it touched my heart. I relate to the healing power of haibun, maybe through writing we finally acknowledge painful past experiences, finding a way to come to terms with loss and grief. This can be confronting; we gain support from others who have been on a similar journey, working our way towards gaining control over our lives and looking forward to a positive future. You have certainly helped me in the past with your mentoring role. I was amazed at your ability to see the essence of me, your compassion and generous responses-you have a gift.
Hi Margaret,
Thank you for taking the time and trouble to read this H4H article on the possibilities of healing in haibun.
What you say about how through writing we find our way to acknowledge and share our difficult experiences, reminds me of George Swede’s interview for this H4H project. He mentions how through writing haiku, we step out of our grief and pain. I’m grateful that this potential in haibun comes across to you.
Although relatively new to haiku, you took to the form with admirable grasp of its nuances and have gone on to publish your work particularly in Asahi Shimbum.
It was truly a privilege and also an inspiration to be in a small way, a part of your incredible writing journey.
You’ve addressed some poignant and difficult issues in your haiku with honesty and compassion.
I appreciate very much your thoughtful comments about my writing.
I hope you will find time to try your hand at exploring the healing possibilities in haibun.
Sonam
Dear Sonam,
Thank you for your lovely article. The hard hitting tone is at once startling and fitting. Coming from a haijin like you it extends a certain freedom to younger ELH writers like me, especially after reading Master Basho’s haibun example. It reiterates why H4H is so special and how much your and The Haiku Foundation’s caring matters. From finding their voice, identity and feet, to healing, the platform you have helped create will certainly benefit poets.
Kashmira and I know of a friend who didn’t want to even look at her newborn infant daughter (whom she now dotes on). It was a terrible and tumultuous while, before an eminent doctor diagnosed and treated her for postpartum depression, a lesser known phenomenon then.
Domestic and sexual violence scar victims as well as those close to them. It is sadly all too common. It is therefore heartening to know that the suffering of the silent is a burden that can be shared and lightened by non judgemental encouragement from relative ‘strangers’. Once the bruised know they are not alone in their trauma, and that there are outlets where sharing would be met with empathy, there is real opportunity to heal. Your ‘Obituary for Vanished Hope’ and ‘Late Nascence’ are painfully beautiful.
Your description of the Loze traditional is truly lovely. Thank you for that as well.
May this series help many more find their light and shine forth.
Kashmira and Brijesh
Dear Brijesh and Kashmira,
You have been incredibly generous in your support of this H4H project. In your interview, you both shared your invaluable insights and knowledge of Tai-qi and Qigong as a healing technique that we could explore.
And now, you’ve taken the time and trouble to share your thoughts on this final feature of H4H, exploring the healing potentials of haibun.
You’re right that the Haiku Foundation offers an incredible platform for poets worldwide to meet, connect and share our stories, experiences, and aspirations in the Japanese poetic forms. But it’s the involvement of poets like yourselves that make an initiative like this H4H project meaningful and worthwhile. So thank you so much.
As a haibun poet of no mean talent, Brijesh, you have shared some memorable moments in your writing. Your commendation therefore means a lot to me.
It’s the understated quality of Basho’s language and indeed in the haibun form, that allows us to address painful and difficult feelings and issues in all their rawness. This, l have found helps one to articulate both personal and even social issues like domestic violence.
Your description of your friend’s post -natal depression touches a chord. There’s no road map to navigate that numbing sense of isolation and loss of control that post-natal depression entails. How can one feel so helplessly unconnected with this precious gift of life, a blessing and a joy? Is this even normal to feel this way? All the celebrations on the birth of a child, exasperate this loneliness and pain. You couldn’t be more right that post-natal depression has received scant attention and support until recently.
With deep appreciation of your support and kindness,
Sonam
Dear Brijesh and Kashmira,
My apologies that there’s an error here : a case of predictive spelling being over active:
I meant : All the celebrations on the occasion of the birth of a child exacerbates ( not exasperates) the loneliness and pain of a mother in post-natal depression.
Sonam
Dear Sonam,
Thank you so much for your generous words. You have been hugely encouraging and instrumental in hand holding me for a major part of my haibun writing journey. For that I will always be grateful.
It was truly an honor for Kash and me to contribute to this H4H initiative. Thank you for remembering us and giving us the opportunity.
I meant to respond to Glen Coates’ article as well but by the time I mustered the courage to write, after multiple readings, I realised I had missed the deadline. Truth be told, some aspects of the write up hit uncomfortably close to home and I kept dithering. ‘Amends’, especially was a lovely piece. Thank you Glen for the sharing.
Thank you once again Sonam and Haiku Foundation
Dear Brijesh,
What you magnanimously call my “ hand holding” your haibun journey, has been a huge learning experience for me. It has helped me to pay closer attention to minutiae of details, especially when these involve aspects of my own culture or history, which are not necessarily known to the wider world. I think it’s fair to say that we both learnt and continue to learn from our honest and detailed conversations.
I’m so glad that you mention the loze oral tradition, which is one of my earliest literary experiences.
Glenn’s article is raw in its honest but nuanced articulation of a deeply personal experience. I sympathise with your hesitancy in commenting as it touches one on levels, that cannot be easily explained or described. That you took the trouble to share your thoughts is much appreciated.
Grateful thanks for your continued support and participation in this H4H feature.
Sonam
Thank you for this post and the upcoming series on haibun to deepen our understanding. It is touching and deeply resonating.
Thank you very much, Shalini for dropping by and sharing your thoughts on this H4H feature.
If you have the time please do feel welcome to participate in the forthcoming haibun writing features.
Sonam
Thank you for this insightful and poignant article with wonderful examples. Looking forward to the prompts for this.
Thank you, Joanna for your very kind words of commendation for this H4H article.
As you’ve written quite a few fine haibun yourself, l appreciate your comments very much.
Yes, please do feel welcome to participate in the two features that will invite poets to explore the healing potentials of haibun.
Sonam
Please note: my earlier comments have some typos due to this devices aggressive spellchecker. My attempts to scroll back and double check my comments for errors was not successful. Still, I think you can get the gist of what I said.
Hi Rebecca,
I sympathise with your frustration with an overactive spellchecker as l too have had to apologise to a few contacts for some of the gobbledygook in my mail.
But yes, absolutely, l not only get the gist but also appreciate with gratitude your eloquent and generous comments for this H4H article.
The oral literary tradition of loze has been a popular counterpoint to the dominant culture and authority in Bhutan. It articulates a sensibility that is not often featured in discourses about the history of the kingdom.
Your own writing touches upon themes which address not only your personal loss and grief but also of the universal nature of suffering of all people, no matter what their culture, religion or beliefs. You’re indeed right about how the suffering of people in our current times is brought on by a complete disregard for common humanity.
It’s gratifying to know that you too were touched by this particular haibun by Basho. It certainly piqued my interest in how haibun could be a possible path into exploring some deeply-felt experiences for me.
Thank you so much. You know how much l admire and appreciate your writing.
With gratitude,
Sonam
Thank you for these sad, beautiful reflections and your own, deep, delicate and exquisitely beautiful haibun. Just as a spiders web, strong, but fine enough to hold the sparkle of sun in a drop of dew, so do the writing you chose and the gaijin you penned create a complex web of compassionate thoughts and reflections that heal the spirit and mind by the sheer weight and gravitas of the importance of life, suffering and sustained hope.
The Basho’s haibun you shared has often tugged at my heart and ,for me, its parallels remain pertinent today as the lives of so many of the vulnerable remain expendable highlighting the exhausted families struggling in our rapacious societies to care for the very young and the very old.
It was also meaning to me to learn of Bhutan’s writing form that pits individual desire and longing against one’s obligations to the state.
Your own haibun are a treasure to be savored as we contemplate the healing power of haibun to address some of the most stark and painful human realities, treating always each story’s protagonist as worthy of dignity and leaving us readers in the end with a renewed sense of the importance of compassion and hope.
Dear Sonam,
This article shows the depth of emotions which a haibun can hold. Both Basho’s haibun and your own haibun are a fine testament to this fact. Deeply stirring.
Thank you
Dear Vidya,
Thank you so much for your warm words of commendation for this feature that looks at how haibun can be a potential healing tool.
Your comment goes to the very nub of this feature; how the haibun form with its emphasis on a pared down use of language can challenge and facilitate one to write about the essence of an experience. I have found that cutting back extraneous language opens up this possibility, especially when trying to write about a painful and complex subject.
With appreciation for your support and understanding,
Sonam
Thank you, Sonam for this article.
The haibun that have been chosen are very powerful. Obituary for Vanished Hope and Everything and Nothing are both very touching.
I look forward to the rest of the series.
Best wishes,
Geethanjali
Thank you, Geethanjali for making time from your numerous work and family commitments to drop by and share your thoughts.
Your words of support and encouragement for this concluding feature of H4H as well as your contribution in organising the H4H Google Classroom are deeply appreciated. Lavana has been very generous in contributing her haunting photos.
You’ve embraced the haibun form in your own exploration of a wide range of personal experiences.
I look forward to some good exchanges in the two haibun writing features which will follow soon.
With gratitude,
Sonam
Hi
Extremely sorry
I got jumbled up with some other things and so the mix up of dates.
Thank you
Hi
“Coming up on Monday, 19th October:
Week 1 haibun writing prompt”
Isn’t today, the 21st Monday?
Got confused.. kindly clarify
Thank you
Hi Lakshmi,
Thank you for your interest in this Haiku for Healing (H4H) feature, which focuses on the potential of haibun to address difficult experiences and issues.
No need to apologise for the confusion as it is a complex feature.
It consists of 3 parts:
1,
Introductory article: a personal account of the healing potentials of haibun. This is posted today, 21st September.
2.
1 month of writing haibun to weekly prompts of haibun poems starts on Monday, 19th October until Monday, 9th November,
3.
1 month of writing haibun to black & white photo ( contributed by Lavana) prompts starts Monday 30th November until Monday, 21st December, 2026.
I hope you will participate.
Sonam
Hi Sonam
Hopefully so, I would love to participate as healing is part of any body source. It extends the energy from zero to plus and therefore it helps in keeping our minds fresh and lively.
Thank you!