ITS OWN PACE - Waka, a Japanese form of Poetry

Not lilacs, in this case, but lilac-colored bougainvillea

 

22
Its Own Pace

 

Nine, going on ten

With three months of summer, then

fifth grade at St. Luke’s

Reading assignments follow

Math class and Catechism

Ride your bike home; don’t

dilly-dally afterwards

or you’ll miss supper

Pies in the oven, chili

on the stove, wash your hands first

Please, thank you, and yes.

While lilacs bloom and grass grows,

hollows slowly fill

Moving forward, remember

your youth, forget the deep loss.

 

Most of my poems only bow politely to the renshi form of poetry. This poem is my attempt at the Japanese form of poetry known as waka, which is 3 lines of 17 syllables (5-7-5; this part later known as haiku) followed by two lines of 14 syllables (7-7).

 

The poem addresses a tragic situation in a young person’s life. The focus is on the coping mechanism of moving past the pain and incomprehensible nature of an unnatural occurrence. There are no parameters to restrict the types of tragedies that would cause such sorrow. To a child, delineations do not exist.

 

The hollowness that follows deep loss must fill slowly. Debilitating ache eases until only a dull throb persists as a reminder, often when one least expects the memory to rise. The challenge is to remember the goodness, the healthy body of youth, and endless possibilities of a hopeful future.

 

Being told to forget the deep loss does not mean to ignore the occurrence. Instead, allow the healing waters of time to gently flow through your mind, diluting pain and bitter sorrow along the way. Keep in mind, though, that poems do not offer advice. Rather, they draw from the reader’s own mind solutions already considered. In the peaceful atmosphere of quiet reading, it is possible to see solutions in a new light, and determine a course of action.

 

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