The Only One - Anna Yin poem (commentary by Chris)

The Only One

I do know the silence
since I talk a lot in silence.
There are many colors in it;
I name each as my siblings.

But I am the only child.
I don’t have anyone to fight
or to accompany.
God says,
we are all the same, brothers and sisters.
But he too is lost,
and the lonely one.

As I walk with my shadow
I think of his journey.
I wonder
how could he carry all the burdens.

The road in front becomes foggy.
_________________



Best wishes,

Anna Yin

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Welcome back, Anna  :  )

I'm pleased to hear your trip was enjoyable and that the poetry interview in China went well.

Yes, PurdyFest #6 - AcornFest - was fun and yet another great "vacation for poets"! (thanks for coming up with this definition - it's making my life much easier when I try to explain the fests as briefly & accurately as possible).

And I really like your poem. It seems somewhat of a new direction for you (?)


(use of humorous self-deprecation)

I love the metaphysical irony and self-deprecating humour of "since I talk a lot in silence" - to me it sounds like you are becoming increasingly 'Canadianized' in your use and understanding of humorous self-deprecation in your poetry - this is a major, maybe predominant, Canadian personality trait. The best Canadian poets use this to strong effect - esp. Al Purdy. Milt also used this in what I consider his most humanized poems, like "Riding with Joe Hensby" or "I'll become a statue to myself". A little self-parody in poetry goes a long way to making poetry accessible - perhaps it should be considered a key aspect of People's Poetry.


(spiritual viewpoints: Christian/Buddhist)

Another new (?) aspect in your writing is a shift in your spiritual perspective (I could be wrong on this, as I don't know the body of your older work).

Our personal situations are possibly a mirror image, from what little I know of your spiritual & cultural background. You are from the East, China - the Orient, where the dominant spiritualities and religions are more internal, and yet I understand you are a practicing Christian.

I'm from the West, and was raised in that most traditional and establishment of Christian churches, the Anglican (or Church of England - same as Terry). I was a true believer and even the head altar boy until about age 15. Around age 14 I seriously began to question the sincerity of my fellow parishioners, including my parents and our priest. It seemed that no one either really believed or practiced what they claimed to believe at Sunday morning services.

I remember at age 15 driving to church with my parents and younger brother, and then climbing over a large wooded hill to a secluded lake. I found more spiritual sustenance roaming around the lake in a state of mild reverie than I had ever felt in church, even as a participant in preparing and serving the sacrament to the parishioners. Those Sunday strolls in nature likely became the early foundations for my later adoption of a nature oriented spirituality (like the romantic Lake poet Wordsworth) and which further broadened into a Buddhist awareness.

When I was 18 I became eligible for the draft for the American War in Vietnam. Even the popular media of the time exposed the hypocrisy and wrongness of the war, but I had to make and live by my own spiritual and social guidelines. I bought a used paperback on meditation to help me cope with a stressful schedule of attending college full time (while also working a 30 hour week - now this would be considered a full time job). I also had to commute several hours a day between school and work, and out of desperation with my situation I found a relaxing answer in practicing yoga.

The book also had some advice on breathing during the yoga asana poses, and some hints at meditative practices. I took to both yoga and meditation like a duck to water, and I've practiced meditation to some degree the rest of my life. It was also during this time that I discovered haiku poetry, and again I took to it as if continuing something begun in another lifetime (which I now believe).


(use of doubt in your poem)

Of course there is some minor history of the benefit of doubt in Christianity (Thomas Aquinas, etc.), but I find the point of view in this poem to be more Buddhist in outlook than Christian. The dominant theme is silence, and yet 'speaking' within this silence - sounds like meditation or 'true' prayer to me.

My understanding of Buddhism is that we all have a Buddha within, just as Christians supposedly carry the Christ spirit. But almost all the Christians I have met believe that God is somewhere OUT THERE, not primarily, or even at all, inside themselves.

But when an individual human is 'lost' in maya, 'worldly illusion', the Buddha within may be considered occluded (hidden, obscured). And this is how I interpret the conclusion to your poem, that in a Christian belief system there is just too much confusion for one God to deal with ("how could he carry all the burdens").

From what I consider an almost Buddhist perspective, you conclude the poem with the protagonist's  "The road in front becomes foggy".


It's a very strong poem, Anna, and the spiritual questing and questioning resonate with me and my belief systems. Well done!

peace & poetry power!
Chris ... and Chase ... wrffffffffffffffffffffffff! (get me outta here - you've been typing for an hour - time to head to ZenRiver for the day)


p.s. be interesting to hear what Terry makes of my interpretation
p.p.s. I'm cc'ing this to Marvin Orbach, a retired archival librarian who is collecting materials for the Univ. of Calgary special Canadiana literary collections - hope this is OK?
   

day moon rising (book review)

day moon rising, by Terry Ann Carter
Black Moss Press, 2012
72 pages, $17
isbn 978-0-88753-499-7


day moon rising
on the bodhisattva path

As a fellow haijin, I couldn't resist turning the title of Terry Ann Carter's new collection from Black Moss Press into a haiku. The cover illustration lends credence to my intuition that Terry IS on the Buddha path, or more particularly the path of the bodhisattvas, enlightened beings who return to aid humans with our enlightenments. The black & white photo of a stone female bodhisattva is overlaid with psychedelic floral and bird patterns - bright painted red lips identify the Buddha's sex.

The content further reveals Terry's Buddhist calling to our truest inner beings. There are tens of thousands of haiku poets worldwide now - possibly haiku is the most rapidly growing literary form on the planet. At its most basic level, writing three lines of imagistic poetry just isn't that hard to do. So it's the content, and the intent of the haijin/poet, which matters most. Otherwise, it's just three clever lines, or 'haikuish', with no heart or soul or wisdom (academic poseurs, and there are many hundreds of you cluttering and ego tripping in the haiku world now, please take note!)

This slim book documents Terry's recurring visits to a land of 'the Heart of Darkness', Cambodia. As a member of The Tabitha Foundation of Canada, Terry works with teams, including Cambodians, to build houses. I hadn't heard of this incredible program until I read her book, and miraculously, more than one and a half million Cambodians have been helped out of poverty and despair by this Canadian foundation.

As mentioned, Terry is a master haijin, and current President of Haiku Canada. But most of the poetry is longer in form, and truly heart wrenching. Amid heat and sweat stench she records eight-year-old girls forced into prostitution and infection with AIDS and other horrors. As a Buddhist, Terry doesn't flinch from acknowledging these truths of suffering, and yet somehow I came away from reading this collection feeling hopeful and inspired.

I have read this book twice, both times sitting on the deck of the shaman shack at my ZenRiver Gardens retreat. In a mild state of reverie before the initial reading, I was thinking of lotus flowers, as one is in the first stages of bloom across the river. So synchronicity greeted me with a wakening slap from the first poem:


Wild Lotus
  (after Mary Oliver)

You do not have to be vigilant.
You do not have to be aware of every little sign.
You do not have to record the millions buried.
It is an insurmountable task.

You can't set down the facts.
You can't go ghost
hunting in the fields of mines.
You can't even say you have a stake
in this harvest.

Whoever you are
know that the wild lotus
that blossoms in the filth of ponds
is pure.

There are moments of humour amid the horror and sweat-dripping labours, as in the poem "For the Tuk Tuk Drivers'

who know these roads like a crab
knows sand.


but the horror is always present:

in the glass case of skulls,
a reflection
of my own face

and beauty will not be denied:

through the dragonflies' wings
the sky
bluer


At this historic juncture on planet Earth, we desperately need more poets and haijin of this calibre. Poets simultaneously able to live and lead and record the inward and outward journeys which all beings will eventually experience. Congratulations to Black Moss Press for publishing this unique book, and to Terry Ann Carter, who is showing us how to be fully and deeply human.

Namaste,
peace & poetry power!
Chris Faiers/cricket

Note: This review was published in the Haiku Canada e-Newsletter, Summer 2012 (part 2)
late June