Dad in Hospice

Here’s the first poem from my index card boxes for poems that start with the letter D:

dad in hospice—

lichen on the twig

fallen to the trail

Grief comes unexpected. I wrote this haiku on 25 January 2014, the day before my dad died at the age of 85. Perhaps I’ve never had sufficient objectivity to know, but I always thought this was a strong poem. However, the editors of six journals seemingly thought otherwise and all in 2021 returned my submission of this haiku to The Heron’s Nest, Blithe Spirit, Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Tsuri-dōrō, and Kō. But this poem found a home in Geppo in 2022, eight years after my dad died. It did not receive enough votes to be counted as one of the best poems in the issue, but it was the best one for me. This story shows how personal haiku can be, not just for authors regarding their own poems but for each of us as readers. I remind myself that perhaps this poem has deeply moved an unknown reader, or maybe several. I don’t need to know who those readers are, but I trust that the poem might move someone. But if not, at least it moves me. And sometimes, that’s all a haiku needs to do.

—19 May 2025 (previously unpublished)