Latest musings from Wue
01. 2024
From the moment I took my first breath I had something to prove. I didn’t know this at the time of course. I wasn’t some genius, miracle baby. I wasn’t special, precious in any way. In fact I was just a baby girl, born as the second child to the eldest son much to the relief of my mother. She thanked me in silence for coming second and not first so that she could fulfil her duty of providing an eldest grandson of the eldest son to a family where this mattered. It mattered greatly.
It mattered so greatly that I knew my inadequacy for affection at a tender age. There was no reason or explanation. No one questioned it. This was how my world worked and all I could do was to work with it. And work it I did - for the next decades I worked as hard as I could. I worked hard to prove my worth. I worked hard to prove my mother’s worth. I worked hard to prove I was just as worthy of affection and of love. As I grew older I worked hard to prove my worth as a friend, a girlfriend and then a wife. I also continued to work hard to prove my worth as the second daughter to the eldest son and a granddaughter who was still not worthy.
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haiku (or senryu) 02. 2024
Haiku is a type of short form poetry with its origin from Japan. Traditional Japanese haiku consist of three phrases composed of 17 phonetic units or syllables in a 5, 7, 5 pattern that typically includes a kireji and a kigo. Clearly mine are freer of the rules except in adhering to the 5, 7, 5 pattern so one can argue that senryū is a more fitting description of my poetry.
To me the correct description mattered not in the slightest. It was the pattern and the rule of 5, 7, 5 that afforded me what I craved in myself prescribed therapy. As I woke up nearing a milestone birthday to the news of my diagnosis; a chronic illness; one of the rarest; no cure and unpredictable of symptoms, my meticulously organised and cautiously controlled world fell apart. It was my worst nightmare – to lose control. And so it was only inevitable that I held on to some form of control and ravelled in some form of rules even in pursuit of therapy. 5, 7, 5 became my prescription to regain the smallest of control and a pinch of sanity.
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