Lift up your eyes to mine
There is no mystery here
I was always yours
Haiku for the Lonely-Hearted started as just one poem. As most poems do, it came without my permission. Admittedly, I tend to prefer some sort of free verse, though I have strayed towards sonnets and elegies now and again. Haiku always seemed a little stand-offish, the poem that might give you a one-word answer at a cocktail party before excusing themselves to examine the art in the hallway. Let’s be real for a minute, I never had much patience for haiku. I liked poetry that was a little more limber, that allowed a little more play.
But this particular afternoon, I was feeling anxious and overwhelmed. The expanse of the blank page in front of me felt like an abyss that I wasn’t willing to jump into. Suddenly, those seventeen little haiku syllables felt inviting. Just enough. One deep breath. I could organize one emotion, I thought. Writing that haiku felt oddly satisfying. That minor three-line act felt significant, somehow. I felt the haiku was an exhale.
Haiku for the Lonely-Hearted will continue as a series on Holy in the Infinite indefinitely. If you would like to read just haiku, you can find them categorically organized here.