re:Virals 502

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, hosted by Keith Evetts (managing editor) and Melissa Dennison.  In the seat today is Keith.  This week’s poem, chosen by Swagata Soumyanarayan was:

   
hollow tree—
I try to figure out the depth
of solitude
—C.X.Turner
Cold Moon Journal, December 22, 2022

Introducing this poem, Swagata writes:

This poem by C.X.Turner resonated immediately. I’ve been widowed recently and have often felt lost. The image of the hollow tree and its link with solitude is strong. There’s no suggestion if the tree has leaves or flowers. The word ‘hollow’ may evoke decay or a picture of old age.

Feeling alone (hollow) even among other people is something we cope with, or try to anyway. The solitude we chose and the loneliness that comes uninvited, are different as I experienced. In a world that’s chaotic and overwhelming, solitude is rare but loneliness is all pervasive. Does solitude lead to peace or does it translate into feeling cut off from others? That’s for each of us to interpret. As the speaker tries to reflect on the condition of solitude, I try to explore mine.

Opening comment (Keith):

Solitude and loneliness are part of the haiku poet’s stock-in-trade. There are many, many verses about them, of which it seems the majority written in English refer to “this solitude” or “this loneliness” in a likely attempt to distance a verse slightly more from ego. What may be different about the one under consideration? First, it prompted me to reflect that solitude and loneliness are not the same thing. Solitude, being alone in the sense of being the only human present in a scene, is an external thing; it can be rather grand in some great landscape, and often something to be sought, at times, if not solitary confinement.  Loneliness, a feeling coupled with longing for company, is an internal thing: “loneliness lies within the listener—the cuckoo’s call” (Chiyo-ni). In solitude, one is still connected to the natural world —enji: nothing exists independently or in isolation. With loneliness, however, there is a distinct feeling of disconnection.  You can be lonely in a crowd.  With either, there is the sense of social withdrawal or denial.

Second, there is the introduction of the natural image: “hollow tree.”  A fresh phrase in this context, I think.  It implies “emptiness” without resorting to the cliché “this emptiness.”  It’s a well-selected image, as often one cannot see from the outward aspect that a tree is hollow, or, if there’s an opening, how deep the hollowing-out has become.  The comparison with a person is evident.

This seasonless haiku consists of a natural image plus the personal thought of the poet, an increasingly common form that is now firmly established. I am sure we have all embraced it. Why, days after this verse was put forward, we read in Rattle: “rope swing / assessing the depth / of my losses” (Annette Makino).  Moreover there are, as usual, impeccable precedents: “cherry blossoms…many, many things come to mind” (Bashō).  One criterion I apply is whether the personal thought of the poet is fairly universal, or really limited to the poet and perhaps to a tiny minority. In this week’s verse, although the poet with honesty makes no attempt to hide her persona, the line “I try to figure out the depth” not only sets up the pivot from the tree to the reveal “of solitude,” but also effectively invites the reader to join her in meditation, in which case the “I” becomes the reader figuring out how solitary they themselves may be. No one is an island…

And thus, with freshness (atarashimi), directness (makoto), and an open prompt to meditate on a subject with no answers suggested, Luci’s verse works for me. Our centurion apple tree, hollow with heartrot, still produces a fine crop each year all by itself.

Sudha Devi Nayak:

The once flourishing tree with foliage and flower has hollowed out with unmistakable signs of age and decay.  It stands alone, savouring to the full its aloneness, its being, even while sheltering the passer-by from the inclemencies of nature-rain, wind, sun.  It is a space in a tree that the ancient rishis and monks took their abode in meditation, prayer and freedom, and gained wisdom and attained insight. It is a space for empathy, for birds building nests or other forms of wild life seeking refuge from the ravages of nature.

What strikes me about the hollowed tree is its meditative stance, its sense of utter undiminished peace, its communion with the Divine.  It is also a metaphor for man who has lost his precious youthful years in the cacophony of civilization, and in the evening of his life realises the futility of it all and turns to that solitariness courted by all tired, world-weary souls.  A serenity seeps into him, a tremendous detachment, a distaste for life dissipated in meaningless pursuits.  Away from human interaction, in the immaculate silence, there is a spiritual awakening, sudden perceptions, epiphanic moments. To me the haiku says all this and is a beautiful expression of grandeur in solitude.

Lakshman Bulusu:

This one addresses one aspect in human life – one of loneliness or solitude.

The haikuist finds the same solitude in a hollow tree. And tries to gauge its depth in it. From a brighter vein, “the depth of solitude as in a hollow tree can be thought of as one of splendor in solitude and the mind, the tree, and the emptiness as objects of its own construction”.  The hollow of a tree can be one filled with sun light from dawn to dusk and moon light from dusk to dawn.  Or the first twinkle of stars when seen through the same hollow of the tree.

This experience is quite opposite to a general one caused by solitude or emptiness in the hollow tree, which makes it stand out: enjoy solitude.

Beata Czeszejko:

When I read a haiku about loneliness I was really, really surprised by the image of a tree that appeared in the text. I asked myself why a tree with a hollow can show the phenomenon of loneliness. Trees appear in groups creating a forest. Thus I do not perceive forests as a phenomenon related to loneliness.

That is why the imagery of this poem seemed so original, creative and unique to me.

A tree with a hollow is sometimes half empty and half full.  What is more, a hollow in a tree is home to many animals: insects (spiders, wasps, wild bees, hornets, etc.), mammals (squirrels, hedgehogs…).  A hollow tree is a shelter – that is the most important thing.
Such perception of an old tree only half empty – as a new shelter – shows the power of the text. Moreover the subject tries to understand and learn how to be a shelter —for yourself (for your inner life, for your thoughts and feelings) and your loved ones.
Every person tired of everyday life, the phenomenon of social media, the noise of city streets can seek shelter inside solitude. A lonely life can become a new home, rest, a life free from mayhem.

Raji Vijayaraghavan—leading us to introspection:

This haiku leads us into introspection of our own. The hollow tree represents emptiness within. The tree is affected through external sources, slowly hollowing out deeper due to decay. Similarly, the human mind is affected and influenced by many factors, both internal and external, to seek out solitude. We take time out for ourselves to reflect, meditate and also refuel our energies to get back to regular life soon after. This is a positive aspect of one’s chosen isolation.  When solitude extends to longer periods with no socialisation with family or friends, it is a cause for concern on the health aspect of a person’s mind.

That is what the author of this haiku is reflecting upon, trying to gauge the depth of her solitude to measure its impact on her mental health. I would suspect both the cause and effects of solitude on well-being.

Author C X Turner:

I’m truly grateful to last week’s winning commentator, Swagata Soumyanarayan, for selecting my haiku for commentary at re:Virals.

I wrote this haiku while walking in the woods near my home, looking for stillness after a heavy week. There’s an old oak I often return to, its gnarled trunk and scattered wildflowers offering a kind of grounding. That day, after pausing there, I passed another tree, hollowed through. The darkness inside it stayed with me, deep enough, it seemed, to curl up in.

That image echoed a quiet question I’d been carrying: how deep can solitude go before it becomes something else?

The haiku came almost whole. I liked the ambiguity in “figure out,” whether it suggests measuring, understanding, or simply staying with something unknown. I also noticed how the second line can read with either the first or third, offering a small turn—perhaps a pause—before the final image deepens the mood. And “depth” itself felt right, linking the visible hollow to an interior state. Rather than contrast, I was drawn to a quiet mirroring between image and feeling.

I’m drawn to haiku that allow meaning to unfold gently, without forcing it. I hope this one offers a little space for reflection, a place for the reader to settle into, as I did.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Raji has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic.  As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value.   Out-takes are kept in the THF Archives.  Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.

Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems.

Poem for commentary:

     
graduation day—
my son & i side by side
knotting our ties
—Lee Gurga
 Woodnotes 30 (1996); 
 also: Gurga, In and Out of Fog (1997); Dallas Morning News (July 5, 1997; Lincoln, Illinois); Courier (January 7, 1998; The Bloomington (Illinois) Pantagraph (August 9, 1997)

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.

Footnote:

C.X. Turner is a UK poet and the author of evergreen—a collection of haiku, senryu, and tanka (Alba Publishing, 2024), longlisted for the Touchstone Distinguished Book Award, and anemones, a mini-chapbook from Yavanika Press (2023). Her poems and artwork have appeared widely in international journals and anthologies, earning Pushcart and Touchstone nominations, as well as The Tejasvat Award (haikuKATHA, 2024). She is co-editor of Wales Haiku Journal and enjoys experimenting with short-form poetry and collaborating with other poets, when not working as a registered social work manager.