Haiku for Lee Kuan Yew

Comparing him to a Tiger

A Hill. A Tiger
Roaming these familiar trails
Alone. Now he sleeps.

Comparing him to a tree

Anticipation
A tree falls in the forest
A new Patch of Sky

Everyone sees
The Tree falls in the forest
It makes not a sound

Contemporary/Pop Culture Reference

No rest for the Feared
Hard Man making History
Valar Morghulis

In his own words

"It is what it is
My Life for My Singapore
I have no Regrets"

"I have a hatchet
We'll meet in the cul-de-sac."
Valar Morghulis!

What advice do you have for Singaporeans now that you are gone? Remember, your advice must be in the form of Haiku

"Keep Calm. Carry On.
Walk Softly. Carry Big Stick.
Winter is Coming."


Haiku has a simple formula - 5-7-5 syllables in 3 lines. A good Haiku references the subject matter by analogy. But sometimes, blunt and direct works well.

Sentiments

Lee Wei Ling (Lee Kuan Yew's daughter) wrote "Love Does Indeed Spring Eternal" on 2 Oct 2011 about her mother's passing the year before, and her father's request:

“For reasons of sentiment, I would like part of my ashes to be mixed up with Mama’s, and both her ashes and mine put side by side in the columbarium. We were joined in life and I would like our ashes to be joined after this life.”

It takes a lot of courage for a man not prone to sentimentality, to make a requests purely for reasons of sentimentality.

Or it takes a lot of Sentiment for a man not prone to sentimentality to request something purely for sentiment.

Go, gentle into the good night.

The race is run, the battles won

Your life's work has taken all your life

Go now to be with your wife

Your two loves are Country and Choo,

What we owe, we owe to both her and you

Go, gentle into the good night,

Rage not against the dying of the light

The race is won, the journey done

You've won your peace, you have won the right

To go gentle into the good night.

Three Stories

Joan's Story

I don't blame him for leaving me.

But I do blame him for betraying me.

He had made his choice after stringing Jane and me along for the longest time. I had told him many times that he had to make his choice. He always promised that he would, but that he couldn't bear to hurt Jane. Finally Jane and I met up. I didn't hate her. Not then. Perhaps not even now. But if he had chosen her, I would probably have been devastated.

But not knowing for sure, not being able to move forward, was worse. So Jane and I met up, and told him he had to choose.

He took Jane aside and spoke quietly to her, his face serious, his brow furrowed, an anxious look on his face.

I could see Jane shrinking as he spoke. His words were hurting her. Her shoulders slumped with defeat. Her lips trembling as she controlled her tears.

She raised her head finally, defiantly, proudly. She said something that apparently surprised and startled John. But then she went on and I could see the tension flow out of John. His shoulders eased and relaxed.

I guess she was telling him that she accepted his decision. He was saying something else, when she leaned forward to hold him awkwardly as he tried not to return the hug. She kissed him on the cheek and let him go. Goodbye, her lips moved, then she turned and walked away without looking back.

I thought she carried herself rather well in this her time of defeat. I caught myself feeling sorry for her, and told myself, she wouldn't want my pity. Well, she had my respect, then.

Fish. Bird. Lake.

This is a half-remembered story. Someone told it to me. I can't remember who.

But I remember it. Because it has meaning, and a lesson.

-------------------

There was a little lake high in the mountains, not much bigger than a pond. It was so high that in the winter the surface of the lake would freeze over. But it was a deep enough that the water below got really cold, but did not freeze. When it got that cold, the fishes slowed down, became less active, and waited patiently for the waters to warm up again.

The fishes had lived in the lake for many generations and many winters. Seasons passed, the waters rose and fell with the seasons, and turned cold and warm with the seasons.

The younger, more vigorous, and more adventurous fishes swam up the streams that fed into the lake, and came back reporting that the waters ran faster and shallower as they swam up, until finally, the waters ran too fast, or too shallow, or were blocked by ice.

The Little Lake and the streams that fed into it was the whole world to these fishes. And it was good.