Haiku for a Dead Orphan

Haiku for a Dead Orphan
	Diamond Cold wind gray sky mourn A diamond in the rough Earth was not worthy Tear Rain falls but no tear A father weeps from afar Yet brother does not Seed Earth receives a seed Of rose amidst the nettle Perfume for heaven Promise Futility mocks The eye of faith strains to see A promise fulfilled Love Love veils her face here Herald of the one cries out Unknown love made known
For Sergei Adveev Sobinka, Russia Rest in peace, brother April 29, 2008 © Alan Pretre

俳句

I have a secret to tell you: I like haiku. Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry. It is distinguished by its minimalist structure. You can read all you want to know about it and more at Wikipedia. In English, one form of the poem has 17 syllables in three lines arranged 5-7-5. The impact of haiku is not only in what is said, but in what is left unsaid. Because there are so many gaps, the reader is able to take them and personalize them to his reality. He is left pondering in his mind all of the possibilities. It is wonderful.

I've been thinking about Sergei Adveev since I posted yesterday and I wanted to do something to honor his memory. So, I composed 5 haiku as a memorial to him. Each poem stands on its own, and tells a story. But they are also coherent as a whole, and tell a larger story. I will post them tomorrow without commentary. I wept as I wrote them. I hope they touch you, too.

Precious One

Life on the streets is not easy for an orphan. The street is where many orphans end up when they age out of the orphanage and are not able to earn a living. The future is bleak for those who can't escape. But there are wonderful missionaries in some places doing what they can to help orphans. Even though they can't adopt them, they are being Jesus' physical presence on Earth to those who otherwise would be very literally loveless. Children's Hopechest is one of these organizations.

Tom Davis tells the sad story of a Russian orphan named Sergei Adveev, from the town of Sobinka. He was a young man who was doing his best to make it in this world, but was murdered by skinheads. Only six people, SIX, came to his funeral. Five if you don't count the priest. And there wouldn't have been any but for the missionaries. Thank you, God, for them.

I love Tom's heart and his writing. I wish I could have 1% of the compassion that he has, and the will to act on it.

Tom is an author. You can read a chapter from his book, Red Letters: Living a Faith that Bleeds here, and watch the video.