Three Haikus for Elul

Elul, the last month of the Hebrew lunar calendar, is a time of self-reflection for many Jews. Ending today, the day before Rosh Hashanah, Elul is a time of preparation for the deep personal change implied by the word teshuvah, meaning “turning” or “returning” to a mysterious new alignment with God or the world or yourself.

 For many, the direction such a powerful realignment will take in the upcoming year will be the product of the gestation that happens during Elul. But what kind of turning or returning do we hope to achieve? What kind of personal change will be required of us? From what to what?

 Without a starting point, a location of the self, such questions can be overwhelming. That’s because they can’t be answered without first asking ourselves a more basic and modest question: Where am I, exactly, at this very moment, in this exact time and place, and among whom?

Where am I, exactly, at this very moment, in this exact time and place, and among whom?

 Instead of trying to locate ourselves in eternity, we may be better equipped to find ourselves in just this moment. From that location, we may begin to take small, tentative steps in what might be a larger process of change. In trying to find such a location for myself during this past month, I composed “Three Haikus for Elul.”

 In writing the poem, I felt called upon to not get ahead of myself, to record in as distilled a way as possible my immediate state relative to the personal change being asked of me—that, and only that.

 The tight simplicity of the 5-7-5 syllable count of the English-language haiku made it a worthy tool to help me penetrate the darkness of my self-ignorance. The form guided me to move slowly, step by step, candle in hand, very much like Theseus making his way through the labyrinth.

For me, as a poet, the poem is the actual place of my teshuvah. When I am writing successfully, my whole being turns into the poem and becomes transformed into something else that is not me. The result is that the poem becomes a map as well as a manifestation of the change the poem depicts.

 You’ll note that the poem is cast in terms of a “we” rather than an “I,” which indicates that for Jews, true spiritual change is only possible in the company of others. Here’s the poem:

David M. Katz

 Three Haikus for Elul

 We are at the start

        And about to take one step.

                Everything is dark.

 It is very dark.

        But we each put one hand out

                To feel for the wall.

 We hear our breathing

        And know that we are alive,

                Can take the first step.