It is the primary sense we human beings enjoy. So important to us that, as a species, we experience terror at its loss. Among animals, only birds possess a greater acuity.

Frank Tassone here, your host for today’s Haibun Monday, where we blend prose and haiku to fashion the poet Basho’s favorite form. Today, let’s talk about vision!

Let’s be honest: absent any long-term conditions or health issues, how many of us take our eyesight for granted? I certainly did. Like many of us north of forty, I started to use non-prescription reading glasses when my arms proved too short! Imagine my surprise, then, when on the verge of 56, I suddenly didn’t need them anymore. My newfound benefit proved short-lived, however, when I could not read a computer screen this past July. Even worse, using my old over-the-counter readers resulted in tension headaches. A visit with a new ophthalmologist resulted in Cataract removal surgery, which I underwent last Tuesday. Now, I’m reading with those OTC glasses again—and my right eye has 20/20 farsightedness again!

Vision, of course, is eyesight, but it’s so much more, too. We have a vision of who we are, and who we want to be. & not just us.  Our society—whether as small as our family or as large as our nation—has the same. Native Americans of certain tribes participated in Vision Quest ceremonies to determine such clarity for themselves. Vision has a visceral quality.

Witness what some poets have to say about it:

kintsugi
how the sun breaks
through my world

Kath Abela Wilson
Pasadena, California

broken window
a grasshopper jumping
into the sun

Aljoša Vuković
Šibenik, Croatia

kept from seeing
the whole picture
my broken vision

Jackie Chou
Pico Rivera CA USA

Curated by Carole MacRury, courtesy of Haiku Dialogue, the Haiku Foundation, January 15, 2020

A Thousand Thens

wind-shimmered wheat
the kestrel’s belly
uplit

A solitary walk through the fragrance of all that’s green and golden, and suddenly, I am not alone.

Breathing in, I am my dead-too-young father whom I thought invincible, secretly afraid of thunder, and the sea that took a cousin. Breathing out, I am the song of the blackbird he loved the best.

Breathing in, I am my mother, wound by worry, in her rocking chair to nowhere. Breathing out, I am the light of a wagtail across the river stones, and a memory of being taught how to skip with a rope.

Breathing in, I am my grandfather, bitterly disappointed by the lie my father told. Breathing out, I am the drowsy lap, the delight of pencil on paper.

Breathing in, I am my grandmother, straight and stern as the poker on the hearth. Breathing out, I am the crispness of freshly baked pastries made by cool hands and a warm heart.

Breathing in, I am not just born of love, but of pain and joy, triumph and loss. Breathing out, I am so many hopes, dashed and dared, so many dreams, burnished and broken. All are here, on this rung of the twisted ladder, this one moment on the double helix that unravelled me between a thousand thens and now.

endless sky . . .
two kestrels hunt
as one

—Claire Everett, MacQueen’s Quinterly Issue 19

Courtesy of the Haiku Foundation

What does vision mean to you? Is it ordinary eyesight? Extraordinary perception? Is it the eagle’s glare, whether perched or in flight? Or a certain Marvel superhero? Whatever vision is for you, incarnate it in your haibun!

New to haibun? The form consists of one to a few paragraphs of prose—usually written in the present tense—that evoke an experience and are often non-fictional/autobiographical. They may be preceded or followed by one or more haiku—nature-based, using a seasonal image—that complement without directly repeating what the prose stated.

New to dVerse? Here is what you do:

• Write a haibun that alludes to vision
• Post it on your personal site/blog.
• Include a link back to dVerse in your post.
• Copy your link onto the Mr. Linky.
• Remember to click the small checkbox about data protection.
• Read and comment on some of your fellow poets’ work.
• Like and leave a comment below if you choose to do so.
• Have fun!