“To see is to forget the name of the thing one sees.”
Paul Valéry
One day in the fall
in the morning
the tree I have often
never seen
shattered
with its red fist
the dictionary
hiding behind my eyes.
The veil of words tore
and I stood without
plans or memories
and barely without breath
in that fleeting intensity.
2013
—————————————
This is not a haiku poem, no seventeen syllables, no 5-7-5 syllable three lines. So why call it a haiku?
A haiku poem captures a moment when the poet vividly experiences an impression from nature. Even though the form of this poem is not haiku, it does present a haiku-like experience, a tree in glorious fall color. This tree was right outside my door. I hurried past it everyday for six years, barely noticing its presence. I knew what it was. I had a word for it ‘tree.’ The word and its definition were in the mental dictionary through which I cataloged the world. We see the world through a ‘veil of words.’
But on this morning the living tree got my attention like a punch in the face gets your attention. I could not escape from the real tree behind the word ‘tree.’ I stood in that fleeting now with no past or future to distract me, enthralled before the presence of this intense explosion of red.