re:Virals 526

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. In the host chair today is Melissa Dennison. This week’s poem, chosen by Urszula Marciniak was:

   
waves unearthing shells
deeply buried in the sand—
those words left unsaid
—Alvin B. Cruz
 Runner-Up, Society of Classical Poets 2024 Haiku Competition

Introducing this poem, Urszula writes:

There are so many things I wouldn’t want to talk about. Let them lie buried deep, like those seashells. I watch the waves. For now, they’re gentle, revealing nothing. What will I do when the seashells become visible? Will I feel better, even if it feels worse at first? We think we know better what’s good for us, but we don’t control the waves. We don’t decide when the really big ones will appear.

Host comment (Melissa):

I don’t think it is unusual for words that are unsaid to appear in haiku, but I don’t know how many haiku use buried shells as a metaphor for these. I think this is an interesting approach. I can see the beach beneath my feet and the shells as they emerge. I am left wondering how long the shells have been buried, whether they have been transported from elsewhere and what stories they could tell. I even hear the waves crashing to shore. There is much in this visual haiku that lends itself to further reflections.

Furthermore, what Alvin is expressing is an all too familiar experience. And it reminds me of regret. How many times have we wished we could go back to a pivotal moment in our lives and change it if we could? Do we wish we had expressed our feelings but didn’t because we were too scared? Perhaps we were afraid of rejection? If we had given voice to these words, in what ways would our lives be different now?

What interests me is the psychology implicit in these lines. Alvin’s words suggest that there are things which are hidden waiting to be uncovered. This echoes much of 20th Century theorising around the unconscious mind. For instance, Freud envisaged the unconscious as being similar to an iceberg, where much lays unseen below.  However, as I veer towards postmodernism and social constructionist theories I would question whether there is anything that is really hidden, waiting to be brought out into the light. Why? Because we change throughout our lives, I am not the same person I was a decade ago. And as we change so to do our minds and memories. Memories are not fixed and tangible, but are much more fluid, malleable and unreliable than we like to think.

Over to you then, what do you think? Are these shells hidden, or it is that we see them differently one day? Do we develop new understandings of these as we change over time? Or could the shells have simply appeared, not being there the day before?

If you are interested and would like to learn more then please see these links:

Freud’s Theory of the Unconscious Mind

Freud and the unconscious

And if you are feeling like a heavy read over the weekend then look no further than this:

Consciousness after postmodernism

Leena Anandhi:

A classic 5-7-5 haiku is what struck me…and then again those words that painted the picture in our minds- ‘unearthing’, ‘deeply buried’ (not just buried) and of course the very evocative ‘words unsaid’. There’s a lot being described here in a restricted form. ‘Waves unearthing shells’ being parallel to the ‘words unsaid’. The waves unearth a whole lot of things on the shores but the poet specifically talks of shells which in itself is a closed box of treasure, much like expressive words buried deep down and left unsaid in a verse perhaps (?) – a haiku or even the pauses between conversations much like waves that bring forth these silences which like shells are words felt but left unsaid. Delightful!

Nalini Shetty:

Alvin’s ku unfolds like a quiet revelation. The waves, steady and unrelenting, become agents of truth bringing to light what was once hidden. The shells are tangible, yet they also hold memory, emotion, and vulnerability. That final line—“those words left unsaid”—lands softly but carries weight. It’s a moment of recognition: silence, too, leaves traces. This poem lingers like the hush after a wave recedes.

Morgan Ophir:

Somewhere waves are uncovering shells that lie within the sand. A beautiful yet simple image. Water meets earth. The key that opens the reader to the psychological aspects of this haiku is L3: “Those words left unsaid”. Water meets earth. Emotions and the body. Do the shells represent “those words”; deeply buried memories, emotions, feelings? And the waves. Are they the ebb and flow of the unconscious as it stirs the deeper recesses of the “sand” of the heart and mind, bringing to the surface things long unexpressed? Is the author in reverie, daydreaming or dreaming or has some present event stirred all of these “shells” of feelings to the surface? We can only guess and that adds to the delicate beauty of this haiku.

Radhamani Sarma:

Alvin B. Cruz presents a powerful haiku by depicting the elements of oceanic waves, shells and sand. The very first line, “waves unearthing shells”, leaves more sequential queries and analysis for readers. Shruti or Creation is null without water and air; here roaring, thunderous gyrating waves unearthing shells, implying much: “unearthing shells” into the timelessness of both waves and shell embedded deep in the ocean; exhumed ; their birthplace, a nativity again, a mystery created by The Almighty. Further, how many shells?, how long?, how far?, since when?, what kind of miraculous transformation? These are the unanswered questions that lie before us. Both the poet, and thoughtful readers re-read the first line. It is oceanic activity: one quotes Thomas Gray, a similar concept depicted in beautiful lines:
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:” (Elegy in a Country Churchyard)

Each word by itself a dictionary. Next, what are shells? How are these shells coined, coloured, shaped, formatted? A continuity is established between the first and second lines, “…deeply buried in the sand.” Do the shells lie uncared-for in the vastness? The third line, “those words left unsaid” allows us another speculation, are these the poet’s words, our words, or could this be the wordless breaking waves?…

In a nutshell, all the elements of mighty ocean, waves, shells and sand reveal a rhythm and message, going backwards and forwards rolling and dashing, breaking into white surf. Haiku writer Alvin B.Cruz throws a puzzle to all of us in one beautiful take.

Sudha Devi Nayak:

It takes the persistence of the waves, their struggle to draw forth the myriad coloured shells into the open to face the light of the sun and the grandeur of the sea. Just as the relentless crash of waves unearths shells hidden in the sand, words unravel thought resurrecting it from the dank recesses of our mind. Oftentimes we are unable to voice our thoughts and are constrained by ego or embarrassment or fear of disapproval or outright rejection. That word or sentence withheld could be a confession, an admission or a candid expression that can set the heart at rest.

We search for words around what we need to say, pirouetting around it, things said and said again in place of things unsaid, instead of saying it like it is and unburdening our soul. Guilt that can come free, acknowledgement of one’s failures, a love long suppressed finding utterance, can earn our liberation.  However they await the right moment, the right impulse, the right motivation, like the persistence of the waves to set free the ennobling joy of freedom and love.

Sean Murphy:

After my great-aunt passed away, the task of going through her old letters fell to my mother, who in turn deputized my brother and me to help transcribe a certain collection. This particular collection was actually written by my great-grandmother, who, the story goes, had wanted them thrown out; but her husband (the letters’ addressee) couldn’t bear to get rid of them, and kept them stashed away, eventually passing them down to their eldest daughter, who likewise held onto them for the rest of her life, leaving them to be found by her children (and nieces and nephews), who decided to digitally transcribe them. Which brings me back to my brother and me, sitting on the living room floor with a laptop and a pile of near century-old paper, trying to parse the messy cursive handwriting into neat 12-point sans-serif font, getting to know a relative I never met through letters she had never wanted anyone but her future husband to see, but which three generations of her family chose to preserve.

To be honest, I don’t think any of this has much to do with the intended meaning of the haiku above. If I were to attempt a more objective reading, I might say something about how the things we keep secret and hidden always come to the surface eventually, or about enduring grief and enduring love. I suppose my little story is about those things, in a way, but ultimately, it’s about history. When I read those old letters, I caught a glimpse of the true past, the past you won’t find in history textbooks, in the words of my ancestor. This haiku calls that glimpse to mind, and causes me to reflect on how brief and narrow it was, how little we can ever know of the past, or even of our fellow humans today. How many words have gone unsaid? How many shells remain buried?

Sitarama Seshu Maringanti:

Alvin B Cruz’s haiku is a deep reflection on the many thoughts and reminiscences that are buried deep in the recesses of human memory. We often struggle to recall from our deep memory those words, incidents and experiences that we find urgently relevant to a present situation but feel deeply frustrated at our inability to do so. The haiku succinctly brings out the similarity of such human exertions to the sea shells that get deeply buried due to the unceasing churning that the sands undergo due to the ocean’s ebbs and tides. Like the sea shells, human thoughts too get buried deep in the recesses of human memory. However, just as the deeply buried sea shells surface due to the same wave actions that once buried them deep, our thoughts and experiences too, consigned to the dark alleys of memory, suddenly resurface when we no longer need them. They are at best remain unsaid now. That the human memory plays hide and seek with its owner is brought out well in the haiku.

Carol Reynolds—hidden gems:

As I read this month’s re:Virals haiku by Alvin B. Cruz I could hardly wait to get to my keyboard to respond. It unearthed thoughts ‘deeply buried’ beyond the shells found ‘in the sand’. It returned me to childhood memories and holidays at the beach learning how to find pipis with my grandmother by wiggling my toes in the sand. We looked deeply into rockpools to observe the world within and beachcombed to collect shells which were later turned into craft objects. In my mind’s eye I can see one of those delightful objects now. I am a lifetime beachcomber and to this day whenever I am near a beach, in the excitement of ‘unearthing shells’ left behind by the tide I wonder about their journey which I can never know.

The final line ‘those words left unsaid’ resonated in a different way but just as deeply as the first two. After significant upheaval in my life a few years ago, which it could be said resulted from ‘words left unsaid’, I sought counselling. This unearthed ‘deeply buried’ memories and gave me a greater knowledge of myself and my relationships. A beautifully crafted haiku.

Alvin B. Cruz:

I have written quite a number of haiku on the theme of unexpressed emotions. But for me, this particular haiku seems to encapsulate everything I had wanted to say about unspoken words. By using the image of buried seashells as a metaphor for feelings hidden deep within, and the crashing waves as forces beyond our control, I was able to explore the power of time and nature to heal our wounds. In terms of poetic device, I wanted to create a sense of rhythm by using alliteration, as if to capture the natural rhythm and sound of the waves. In the end, the sound of words finally said is simply that – like the sound of waves that soothes the soul.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Carol Reynolds 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:

     
cousins' meet-up –
getting used to being
the older generation
— Maeve O'Sullivan
  in Wasp on the Prayer Flag, Alba Publishing, 2021

Footnote:

Alvin B. Cruz is an internationally published haiku poet. His haiku have won awards in different international competitions, including the Haiku Society of America Senryu Awards, the Society of Classical Poets Haiku Competition, the Robert Spiess Memorial Haiku Awards, the Kusamakura International Haiku Competition, and most recently the John Bird Dreaming Award for Haiku. His works have also been nominated for the Touchstone Awards and Best of the Net. He is the author of Sunsets Are Sonnets and Other Poems, Written on Water, Paper Cranes, and Under One Umbrella. (www.central.com.ph)

re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).

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