This poem is a slight deviation from the Napowrimo.net prompt for Day 12—‘a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live.’ I don’t particularly like haibun, a form that consists of prose followed by a haiku. At least, I have never read one that did not bore me within a couple of sentences. Consequently, I have never written one until now.
A haibun about place
I don’t get hung up on places. There is always someplace better and someplace worse to be than where I am now. And I can always find things to like and not like wherever I go. None of that matters. Because I am always the same person. So I can live in Tokyo, take the train everywhere, spend weekends going to the record shops in Shibuya, and evenings making music by the light of a computer screen and the house next door. I can live in a semi-rural area just beyond the suburbs, mow the lawn once a week, and look at the thousands of stars in the night sky that city lights would render invisible. I can live closer to town, in a relatively quiet place nestled amongst tall trees and a creek that gently flows all year round, and spend summer nights sitting out on the deck, reading or just listening. Sure, different places affect me in different ways. But I am always the same person, with the same basic traits I’ve always had. The same doubts. The same insecurities. The same tendency to think about the things I want but don’t have instead of the things I already do have. So yeah. I don’t get hung up on places.
They have this saying:
‘Wherever you go, there you are.’
But it’s always me.
(11 April 2018—posted April 11th)