Clarity, or: Convergence

A haibun

My Papa died over four years ago; and I wrote a very public series of blog posts on The Times of Israel during my traditional year-long recitation of the “Mourner’s Kaddish” in his honor, as is noted on Papa’s Wikipedia page.

The Skeptic’s Kaddish blog, which you are now visiting, was born of that experience; I’ve written a number of poems about Papa here. That said, my writing of the last three years has mostly not been been about Papa… though the banner at the top remains a photograph of him from one year before his death.

Honestly, Papa wouldn’t have felt comfortable with anything I’ve written in relation to him, nor with his photograph resting atop my blog. He was extremely private and humble.

As time has unfurled, I have been writing less and less about Papa; I am certain he would have been pleased with my shift away from him.

cloudless skies
crisp keyboard strokes clack

d’Verse poetics: Dia De Los Muertos

At d’Verse, writers were encouraged to write poems to commemorate loved ones we have lost; the above haibun was written in response.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

55 thoughts on “Clarity, or: Convergence”

  1. Helps me realize, we are floating in space. Altogether all together. I love seeing the picture of you dad, looking another direction, this haibun converges back in in a way. lovely.

  2. You and I share similar motivations for starting our blogs. I am in awe of how much writing we have accomplished in the process. Healing too. ๐Ÿ’— A lovely haibun, David. Your father’s book is impressive! I feel smarter just flipping through the pages. ๐Ÿ˜

  3. It is okay to move away and then back again, David. It makes each return special, and each memory visit an uplift and encouragement. We cannot stay in mourning mode for ever. I enjoy your stories of your father!

  4. You’ve absorbed his spirit. You don’t have to write about him or talk about him all the time. He lives on in you. He would probably have appreciated your upbeat haiku too.

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