It was a difficult year. The future looked bleak and grey, the days flat and featureless, each one seemingly the same as the previous one.

On the surface, life was fine. I had a good paying job to fill the days and pay the bills. I had a comfortable home of my own, a family to look after and two children who were growing up as well as they could in these turbulent times.

But my mind had deserted me and my feelings were numb. I had this sensation of being gone from myself, absent for stretches of time. I was going through the motions as if on automatic mode. Coming back from time to time to check out things, then blanking out. I was sleepwalking, somnambulating through long expanses of desert-like days and black, dreamless nights.

And yet, there were vivid moments that stood out starkly against the monotonous surface of things as I went about this business of living.

They would burst upon me, catching me by surprise, richly colored and highly charged with some emotion or fleeting thought.

Words to capture those moments bubbled up and I scribbled them down in a small notebook I always carried around.

Many of them came out entirely as haikus.

I began to look forward to those moments, wondering when and where they would arise.

Those brief shining moments studded an otherwise difficult time, guiding my passage through.

Looking back, I realize that those moments, crystallized in the form of short three line poems, were moments when I was standing in the presence of Meaning.

Moments of stillness.

Moments of peace. Of clarity. Of feeling.

There I was in a moment of time, present and open, yet somehow timeless and ageless.

Life speaks, with certitude, whispering about hope, joy and a timelessness as vast as eternity.

Moments that are intimations that yes, Life has a meaning.

I recall the words of Silo, Argentine poet-thinker in the book The Inner Look:

At times, I have grasped a distant thought.

At time, an immense joy has overwhelmed me.

At times, a total comprehension has pervaded me.

At times, a perfect communion with everything has made me ecstatic.

At times, I have broken my reveries and I have seen reality in a new way.

At times, I have recognized something I was seeing for the first time as though I had seen it before.

I fully realize that without these experiences, I could not have left the meaninglessness.

I have collected some of those haikus into a journal in the wish that you too may be graced with moments wondrous enough to guide you through to another “place and time.”

Karina Maria Esteva Lagdameo

September 2002



Intimations –

A Haiku Journal



a new sun rises

on the distant horizon

the clouds have parted.




a flame tree in bloom

stands solitary, brilliant

along the highway.




the petal-strewn path

after a heavy downfall

leads onwards, softly.




dancing flames entreat—

come close and leave the cold

out in the night.




all-embracing sky

under your protective dome

seas breathe, mountains rise.




sun setting slowly

turns white clouds luminous and

gold, the tips of ferns.




sand crackles crisply

under the soles of my shoes.

I walk home, lightly.




the black asphalt road

cuts a swath, parting a sea

of sugarcane stalks.




a Sunday stillness.

Not even a leaf stirring

Nor a bird chirping.




Rain is pounding down—

Long darts and arrows striking

The sun-parched earth.




two white geese stand tall

walking along the furrows

of endless rice fields.




sitting, quietly

under the shade of night—

two fireflies arrive.




two women walking

slow rhythm of hips and stride—

perfect unison.




a tiny prism

seizes a sliver of sun—

night’s gloom is dispelled.




after a long night

the sun surely comes, shining

on each fallen dewdrop.




all the trees bow down

when the sky sends down the rain

to quench the parched earth.




there in an empty

lot on a lone brown hilltop—

tall, tall sunflowers.




all through the pathway

roses and yellow flowers

whisper gentle scents.




the dew on the grass

bathed in silvery moonlight—

shining crystal spheres.




the wind always comes

playing through the bamboo,

gentle whisperings.




yellow wildflowers

push through the cemented earth

bravely seeking sun.




from within the deep

spring, undulating waves rise

up, lotuses float.




two coconut trees

stand tall and high, sentinels

pointing to the sky.




liquid amber sun

pours through the bamboo thicket

piercing through the curtains.




mist on the mountains

heralds the coming of rain—

cleansing showers.




two butterflies come

each morning to play around

the bougainvilleas.




blue sky embracing

sea, shore, sand, trees, shells, starfish

not one cloud in sight.




in the central space

ringed by a circle of trees

heaven scent of pines.




a fallen tree trunk

roots upturned, earth gaping hole

the pathway broken.




light from a lamppost

casts a pale yellow light

the leaves beside, aglow.




white clouds hovering

low over the rolling hills,

a soft spell lingers.




the day was raining

diamonds, perfect crystal

globes, bubbles of light.




banana heart, high

in the branches, points towards

the ground.




the road twists and turns

amidst the coconut-clad hills

miles and miles and miles.




the bells hang heavy—

no amount of wind or breeze

can coax them to sing.




tiny crab struggles

against the seas’s heaving waves—

swimming valiantly.




a small yellow kite

flight arrested in mid-air

caught, on the treetop.




windows frame pictures

fruit-laden tree, sun-splashed flowers

moss on the boulders.




tall green trellises

bunches of roses climb up

up towards the sky.




four wild ducks, feet tied

limp heads hanging down, for sale

is all for sale?




ancient acacia trees

line a leafy arch above

for all who pass by




pink bougainvilleas—

a merry summer splish splash

covers a stony wall.




wind shaking the tree-

gather round, all you who

seek immortality.







Intimations – A Haiku Journal