Global Haiku • Fall 2024
Dr. Randy Brooks

2 Hours Till Tomorrow

by
Maliyah Battle

When coming up with a title, I wanted it to encapsulate multiple truths at once. The title “2 Hours Till Tomorrow” stands for many things when it comes to my haiku. The first being, the period of the night I would be inspired. Many of my haiku that I have written were made up within the late hours of the night — a time where I had room to settle and think. The least chaotic moments of my day, just before I wind down to go to sleep.

At the same time, my title also stands for what my haiku mean to me. They stand as a double-edged sword—representing times where I feel excited for tomorrow. Waiting in anticipation for what the future will bring, yet also a reminder. A reminder that even when things get tough, another day will always prevail. The representation of counting down to a better day.

Before taking Dr. Brook’s haiku class, I had a surface understanding about what haiku represent and mean. They were just poems that followed a 5-7-5 syllable rule, and that was that. Contrary, that is not what they are at all. Not only do they not follow the 5-7-5 rule, they are meant to provide individuals with inspiration and personal interpretations. Finding meaning in words that can either connect or differentiate us. Creating sparks of inspiration and ambiguity. Never in my life, did I think that writing haiku could be a form of expression for me to aim my thoughts, frustrations, or overwhelming emotions, positive or negative.

That was what I wanted to include within my work. I want to create haiku that are special in representing myself and my struggles, while also connecting and providing a shared common life experience. I am grateful for the events that have happened in my life, good or bad. They are what shaped me to be the person I am today, growing from experiences. They provided me with the inspiration and material to create the haiku I have made today.

cloud’s edge
quickly approaching
sun cut

loud argument
broken fingernail . . .
hurts

paint crusted nail beds
finger paintings different
back then

insecurities
secret admirers —
abstract pieces of art

only take
what you need
salt shaker

fallen star
an earring back
lost in the carpet

quiet cafe
bang
pushed a pull door

loud silence
as I gather
my scattered words

automatic dishwasher
the daughter
with pruned fingers

coming home
the house smells of lemons
mom’s day off

mom doing my hair
tight tugs
a pull from the heart

1, 2, 3, 4
don't forget
to smile

bed sheets drape chairs
soft giggles
hide secrets