re:Virals 482

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. This week’s poem, chosen by Linda Ludwig, was:

     
winter pine boughs
the weight
of a child’s why
—Kelly Sargent
 LEAF Journal, December 2024

Introducing this poem, Linda writes:

I chose this haiku because of Kelly’s ability to skillfully write about seemingly simple moments that can be packed with feelings.

Opening comment:

As parent, or teacher, or other adult in the company of small children most of us have been bombarded with simple but difficult questions.  As a father,  I realised that my children’s questions were the same ones I’d had, but with the distractions of growing up to adulthood, I had just set aside or forgotten them.   Given a small child’s trust in a parent, and a belief (until the child becomes a teenager) that they know a lot and are right, I certainly felt a serious responsibility in how to answer questions.  Probably more serious than the weight that a child would attach to what can become a gratifying game for the little darlings, with each response leading to another “why”.  It took me a while to get round to replying “what do you think?” — and exploring a question together.

Now I am old, I realise that “why” is the wrong question, if by “why” the kind of answer one is seeking is that of purpose.  “What” and “how” are better questions to answer.

On Kelly’s poem: it is detached, and easy to relate to this verse.  I wondered about the choice of “winter pine boughs.”  Yes, snow is implied, which fits with the word “weight,” but “winter” in haiku has acquired by long association the notion of old age and impending death, and it’s in that context that I read the verse: as if a weary grandparent is being asked to answer one of the most difficult questions of all.

Melissa Dennison:

This is an eloquent poem as it speaks a universal truth about childhood. I remember that I was constantly asking why. Why this or what that. My poor Mum. She must have had a great deal of patience. The world is new to children, it’s big, exciting but also frightening. Or it can be. Trying to make sense of it is not easy.

Asking why is just the start though isn’t it? As human beings we are constantly trying to make sense of the world. We don’t always succeed. So a child’s why is just the beginning.

Here the winter pine boughs could be struggling under the weight of snow, but at the same time there is the weight of the child’s question. What are they asking about? Can the adult answer? Do they even know?

It seems that the adult here is feeling the weight or pressure of this question. Children can see the world in black and white terms, perhaps they have clarity that we lose as adults. We see the world as messy, complex and grey. But sometimes there are no answers to this question are there?

Ps as its the festive season I wish everyone here a very merry Christmas and a new year filled with haiku!

Amanda White:

Kelly’s evocative haiku has a compelling and beguiling narrative. The tug of a child’s hand on my winter coat as we walk through a winter wonderland of heavily laden snowy pine trees and that inquisitive moment of ‘why’. It is a magical time as a child when the world is as new as a snowflake, every moment and yet for the adult the world has become perhaps more weighty and burdensome. There we are the mother an old pine and the child a fresh snow fall full of promise and wonder. Yes, Kelly, I really bought into this one and I became again both the young mother and the young child myself incessantly asking why? I remember my own responses to my own daughter who went through a constant why phase which included the question ‘do squirrels eat baddies’ and because I could in that moment and I wanted so to please her I said ‘yes’. It reminds me of all the moments as adults we do not really know the answer to the ‘why’ but have a choice to manufacture something appropriate or we know the real answer and water it down melting away the real into the sugar-coated. But oh Kelly now there is a whole film here, a young mother, perhaps recently single and a child, asking difficult questions, a walk in wonderland that is peppered with sadness. A child’s why is something we should never shy from but so often do and one as adults we forget or cannot be bothered to ask. We bend as the pines and take the weight of the snow and the weight of the world. Love, love, love this.

Lakshman Bulusu:

This haiku focuses on the weight of pine bough in winter which can withstand the bitter cold though it might not be as heavy as any other tree branch. When a child asks why (in italics), it carriers some weightage as to why he/she is questioning about some thing or someone. Like a pine bough carries snow or (thick) ice on its boughs, the child’s question might have standard answer. Sometime it can be taken lightly, similar to a pine bough with its green and some little flakes.

Sometimes less is more and vice-Versace.

I like the beautifully crafted juxtaposition of L1 and Lines 2 and three

Amoolya Kamalnath:

An evocative, poignant and thought-provoking verse, the ‘w words’ occuring diagonally in each line, the sounds of w, t and d adds to the heaviness and sadness in the poem.

L1 creates a beautiful imagery along with the feeling of the cold, the chillness, but also the bitterness and harshness of the biting winter. The evergreen pines are draped with snow and pine boughs are drooping under the weight of the heavy snow. A child’s life seems to be enveloped in some sort of uncertainty, some kind of grief, probably. How old might the child be is what came to my mind. To what extent has the child been able to process what has occurred? There’s a heaviness in the child’s heart, in the atmosphere around. Everything is monochrome both with regards to the weather outside and within the child’s mind.

A beautiful verse to ponder upon. Thank you for writing it, Kelly. Thank you for selecting it, Linda

Linda Powers O’Dell—the whys in all our lives:

This lovely philosophical haiku presents a winter pine tree, its boughs weighed down with thick snow. A pine because its branches are particularly pliable and able to hold a heavy snowfall. The sense of that weight in the natural world is then mirrored in the questioning of a child. A child’s question might be simple and lighthearted, why is the sky blue, what is gravity, why does it snow? The whys, however, may be much weightier. These heavier whys are connected to being children who become adults. Adults who ask the all too human questions, “Why do I exist, what is my purpose? Why are we weighed down by worries? Why is the world the way it is?”

Because children often ask their parents why, parental figures and concerns are brought into the picture. Parents persistently worry the weight of the world will fall on their children. They themselves are weighed down by their care and by wondering what will happen to their children. They cannot avoid asking why will those events happen.

This haiku exhibits admirable techniques. The alliterative w’s contribute to the emphasis of the plangent word “why.” The shortened form of the second line introduces the idea of weight and ironically adds weight to the first and third lines. The image of heavy snow is inescapable yet it is evoked without using the word “snow.” Perhaps best of all, the last word “why” reverberates, echoing the whys in all our lives.

Author Kelly Sargent:

When young, my children loved questions. Curious and bright, “why?” was their favorite. Some answers were simple and straightforward, based in science, logic, and reason. Others were not so black and white. Questions about war or crime or why people are unkind required me to pause and carefully consider my responses.

I became aware that some replies were opinions, based on my belief systems. And that in sharing these, I was a part of shaping the belief systems of two human beings that were growing into members of this society. I felt the weight of wanting to give the “right” answers: simple enough to be understood, complete enough to be satisfying, and open-ended enough to allow space for their own reflections. Ultimately, as they aged, I wished to bring them into the deeper conversations about human nature. Sometimes, an answer simply had to be, “I don’t know. What do you think?” Or, “Let’s continue to think about this.” Holding the questions, sometimes, was just as important as answering them, I found.

Finally, innocence is fleeting in childhood. Truth is beautiful, but it can be cold and heavy at times. I also felt the weight of wanting to protect them but honestly share — what they could handle without frightening them or transferring any cynicism that I might be carrying. Being a part of shaping these two human beings was an awesome responsibility that I took very seriously, every day. Weighty at times, but a privilege that I cherished.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Linda will choose the next poem, which will appear for your consideration and commentaries on 3 January 2025. Meanwhile, a post treating of miscellanea should appear on 27 December, if time allows.  If you’d like to, by all means send via the submission form below no more than one verse of your own about the New Year along with a commentary of no more than 40 words on:

とし神やことしも御世話下さるる
toshi-gami ya kotoshi mo o-sewa kudasaruru
O New Year's god
this year too
send help!
—Issa tr. Lanoue

Deadline 1 January. I’ll pick one for comment on 3 January.

We wish you all, wherever you are and of whatever faith or none, a very pleasant festive season, and beyond…

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

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Footnote:

Kelly Sargent’s bio may be read here in Haikupedia.

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I couldn’t resist leaving in Lakshman’s phrase “vice-Versace” ! Autocorrect assumed, but felicitous.