Haiku for discussion:
pig and i spring rain
— Marlene Mountain, Frogpond 2:3-4 (1979)
Danny Blackwell wonders if the personal is political:
What a great haiku. It is hard not to feel compassion for the players in
the scene. Sadly, it is also hard for me not to think about the pig’s
destiny, which is likely one of suffering for the benefit of humans. For
the most part pigs are not companions, like dogs or cats. Pigs are,
more often than not, destined to be food. In fact, unless we work on a
farm or in the countryside, we rarely see a living pig. Like many great
haiku it is what isn’t said — what is implicit — that really
resonates with us. The pig in this haiku will probably end up on
someone’s plate, and one has to reflect on what that means. Upon reading
this poem by Marlene Mountain I cannot help but recall an interview
that I read not long ago, and which colours my reactions. While not a
vegan myself, I recently stumbled across a pamphlet
of resistance against speciesism, and I was particularly captivated by
the opening interview with an individual named Rob, who served in the
military during Desert Storm:
“I was out of the military for some time already, and I was
struggling with PTSD (…) you see, when I was in the military I saw the
most horrible and ugliest things, I saw innocent people die, and I saw
these videos of animals, and noticed there was no difference in how
humans and animals die, there was no difference in the bloodshed, the
fight for life, and their subsequent death.
My eyes were wide open, and saw that we were the actual terrorists, we
were the ones creating chaos and murdering innocent people for their
resources, we had no right — as we have no right to take the lives of
innocent animals — to invade or enter into those countries. Meanwhile,
here at home, we people of color were being terrorized for years by the
police. The lies we’ve been told about people in other countries, the
environmental destruction humanity takes part in, the unnecessary
killing of animals for food, imprisonment in zoos and aquariums, torture
and murder in test labs. Why do these things resonate so much with me?
Because as a black man, we also suffered these injustices and were
marginalized in much the same way animals are . . .”
After reading this interview, I wonder how relevant the following comments by Marlene Mountain are:
“We have been ‘taught’ alienation and it seems imperative now that we
seek that which affirms the common ground of all organisms.”
I was hesitant at first to include parts of the interview from the vegan
pamphlet, as I don’t wish to misuse this space for political
commentary, however, after reading up on Marlene Mountain, I feel that
it touches on some issues which the poet has dealt with in her work, and
that it gave me a springboard from which to see the poem in a winder
context.
(It may also be worth bearing in mind that a great many of the haiku
poets who defined the genre were Buddhists, and went to great lengths to
not harm other living beings, and this, in turn, greatly influenced
haiku culture. Though Marlene Mountain may have issues with such a
Nippon-centric take on haiku, as in the essay they don’t shoot horses do they?
she states: “those who champion the Japanese Spirit and its complex
paraphernalia for North Americans are under considerable delusion.”)
As regards the topic of war, Marlene Mountain also has various haiku
that tackle the topic explicitly. Take, for example, the following
one-line haiku:
a live update the men's war brushes off more 'collateral damage'
Is not the death of a pig for human consumption another example of
‘collateral damage’? In the aforementioned essay the poet is critical of
anthropocentrism and authoritarianism, and at one point asks: “Must we
continue to be subjected to hierarchical concepts which separate us from
all other organisms?”
The comments I selected from the pamphlet, which touch on a variety
of political topics, may shed little light on the poem in a strictly
textual sense. And, if I’m honest, when I read the haiku I see little
more than the image of a person and a pig, sharing in the spring rain.
And it moves me. It has a restrained pathos that is representative of
the best of haiku. But when I stop and think about the haiku —
that is to say, not simply participate in the haiku moment — I cannot
help but wonder about my own conduct and how political my personal
decisions are.
One thing I know for sure: the spring rain falls on pig and person alike.
https://www.thehaikufoundation.org/2017/10/13/revirals-109/
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