re:Virals 533
Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. In the host chair today is Shawn Blair. This week’s poem, chosen by Shalini Pattabiraman is:
low slung sky the rain hanging by a hundred prayers —Anju Kishore The Heron's Nest, December 2025
Introducing this poem, Shalini writes:
I chose this haiku for the emotional charge it carries. The ‘low slung sky’ evokes a kind of heaviness, pregnant with the weight of so many dreams and prayers—a farmer’s wish for rain—not for too much, or too little but just right, just the right kind of rain that would raise the crop that will feed us; just the right kind of rain that will fill the drying rivers; just the kind of rain that will bring the ice back on mountains; just the right kind of rain that will not wash off the bodies in a deluge. This haiku’s importance comes from its hope for balance. As recent climate change disasters increase, as recent upheavals around the world make the sky feel heavier, the burden of those prayers becomes significant. In reading this haiku, I am moved to say a prayer. Join the hundred prayers and hope that the rain that comes is sweeter and lifts the sky up, making it lighter and brighter.
Host comment (Shawn):
The sky is slung low—the evocative wording emphasizes that the clouds are the sky, they are not something separate from the sky. The people of this particular time and place are of one mind—all hope is concentrated on that pregnant cloud-sky. Perhaps farmers are cutting hay and hoping the rain will hold off long enough to get it done. Or a mountain village is anxiously waiting for overdue monsoon rains to flood the paddy fields.
The lines the rain hanging / by a hundred prayers transform the common idiom hanging by a thread by replacing a thread with a hundred prayers. The allusion to thread or threads, words absent from the verse, might for some readers create an image of rain itself, like the lines representing rain as seen in classic Japanese woodblock prints. A thread can be conceived of as a line of communication, and one wonders whether a hundred prayers of supplication are any better than one, or worse than ten thousand. But threads are also the substance of a fabric—in this case, the social fabric: the wholesome values and readiness to help each other that bind people together into a strong and resilient community.
Prayer orients the mind in certain ways, maybe even in beneficial ways. And the mind in turn shapes our actions and experiences. A thread implies continuity—in some traditions enlightened awareness is seen as continuous (tantra means thread, or continuity), meaning that no situation is perceived as a fundamental obstacle to happiness. The rain comes when it comes. How we experience it and respond to it is up to us.
Lakshmi Iyer:
A purely meditative poem rich with unseen and non-calculative messages sent across the universe justifying the many queries that most of us have or have had.
The fragment ‘low slung sky’ captures the essence of the story behind the phrase. At first, my outlook towards the usage of the word ‘slung’ didn’t much progress in my thoughts but slowly I discovered that ‘slung’ has so much to say rather than remain just a word. It describes the cognitive nuance. It isn’t just a make-up to show one’s skill but its primordial function captivates the poet’s poetic art and skill of deriving basically a peaceful start to a peaceful end.
Here, ‘the rain hanging by a hundred prayers’ ultimately concludes the slung sky to heal the poet’s inner battle literally wanting to free from all the unwanted chaotic life around. Prayers are a beautiful source to connect our soul with the Divine. The medium chosen is rain that does heal when one constantly looks at it. Rain connected with each season has different dimensions. It plays with the human mind. When on a softer tone, our mind is relaxed. When on a rough tone, our minds go haywire.
I loved the personification of rain hanging around as a close friend always there to be at your best times and at your bad times. This is truly a poem from the poet’s heart to be united with close-knit family and friends at all times. Thank you so much Anju and Shalini.
Radhamani Sarma:
Thanks to Anju Kishore for giving readers a haiku that resonates well with the rainy season. Nature and man, two aspects of one scene. Ever since creation, mythologies record that during a drought rituals must be performed for the gods. With the first line, “low slung sky”, the poet dexterously leaves further speculation to the readers’ discretion. Not a clear, sunny sky full of warmth, but a cool and cloudy sky, closer to earth. “The rain hanging”, suggests that rain is hanging in the air and creates a miraculous, picturesque image; rain almost in the air, likely to fall, creating hope and positive auras in human souls. Despite modern technology, we human beings are bound by inimitable laws and the customs that sustain us. Rituals always play a vital role, augmenting our hope.
The third line, “by a hundred prayers”, takes us into a new line of thought, yet reading the mind of the poet is another challenge. The poet might be indicating that it is a period of drought when pots and buckets of water for sale line the streets. As population increases, in the wake of testing times, mass prayers and believers’ rituals reach the angels and rain-giving gods. Pilot in the plane, ship and sails all propelled by a belief, a custom, a mantra, all in the believing god.
Dan Campbell:
Al Roker’s Storm Report
Hey there, friends—Al Roker here with a break from Doppler radar drama. Something just drifted across my desk like a confused cloud looking for directions, so naturally, I had to share. It’s a tiny poem—more of a weather whisper than a forecast—yet it packs a punch:
low slung sky
the rain hanging
by a hundred prayers
Let’s unpack it, shall we?
That first line—“low slung sky”—is your classic pre-storm mood setting. You know that feeling when the sky sits on your shoulders like it forgot its personal space? It gives you a sense of gloom that makes you sigh for no reason and start rethinking your life choices.
Then we hit “the rain hanging.” Now that’s meteorology in a nutshell: droplets hovering like they’re in a committee meeting deciding whether to fall or reschedule.
But my friends—the zinger is in that final line:
“by a hundred prayers.”
Suddenly it isn’t just weather—it’s spiritual. Those prayers? You can almost picture them as tiny, trembling strings desperately keeping the rain suspended.
So what’s the forecast?
Expect scattered sorrow mixed with hope, better keep an umbrella handy—for the drizzle and the feelings.
Sathya Venkatesh:
It brings to mind somewhat inclement weather conditions prevailing in a specific place. The place may have already witnessed cloud bursts and landslides which have made the people residing there disturbed and anxious. They are probably praying, beseeching the rain gods to prevent more downpour so that they are not deprived of their humble dwellings and belongings apart from loss of precious lives of loved ones within and outside their homes. And the rain gods seems to have heard it, answering their prayers! Such a beautiful ku, crafted to perfection by Anju Kishore!
Urszula Marciniak:
Persistent prayer, when many people pray in unison, is answered. Heaven is approaching humanity with life-giving rain. Soon it will begin to fall. Perhaps, however, someone on earth, for various reasons, is praying for no rain, and disunity hinders the work of heavenly grace. We don’t know. Regardless of when it begins to rain, a community of kind, humbly praying people has already formed. Thanks to this, they can already experience a foretaste of heaven here.
Sudha Devi Nayak—an evocative medley:
The sky appears dark and threatening as the clouds hang low, close to the horizon. The vastness of the sky is obscured and one gets the impression of being closer to the sky. The rain-heavy clouds are ready to bring in welcome showers in answer to a million prayers.
The parched earth, the gnarled trees, the fallow fields are waiting for nature with the first rains to express herself in a myriad of colours in wild profusion. Everywhere a sense of fulfilment and abundance and a thankfulness that the clouds and rain are harbingers of beauty and fertility.
In ancient India the priests would chant their invocations to the rain gods Indra and Varuna before the onset of rains to descend upon the earth with grace and grandeur. There would be yagnyas—days-long Vedic rituals with chants of mantras, offerings and worship. A lot of Indian literature centres on the rains. Tagore’s Varshamangal or festival of rain celebrates the monsoon with a series of songs, poems and art focusing on the renewal of nature.
In several religions including Hinduism rains symbolise potential blessings, spiritual richness, the elixir of life that nurtures the earth and its beings. Rain is important in a material sense as well and the practice of rain harvesting helps in times of water scarcity and drought. I am also reminded of the English romantic poet Percy Shelley’s poem The Cloud that says “I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, / From the seas and the streams…” where rain is transformative—rain, snow and storms symbolising vitality and the enduring power of nature.
The haiku is an evocative medley of sky, clouds, rain and prayer, leaving us with a sombre feeling of gratitude, peace and thankfulness at the first drops of rain.
Author Anju Kishore:
We were gearing up for the annual Onam celebrations in our apartment complex. Two days before the event, it began to pour. Organisers and participants alike prayed fervently as clouds continued to gather and roll ominously. This poem happened while we were dreading the worst, yet hoping for the best. The D-day that finally dawned was perfect :)
As a reader, I sense a duality in the poem. The prayer could be for the clouds to descend too. India being a land of contrasts, the sky either empties itself too generously or goes completely dry. This is one of those poems that get written by themselves with no need for the poet to step in with edits. So I quite liked the alliteration in L2 and L3. The ‘h’ sounds followed by the ‘n’ sounds go well with the idea of anxiety followed by prayer, at least to my ear.
The poem is now yours. I look forward to your interpretations and observations.
I am grateful to Team re:Virals, Shalini, and all the poets here for this honour.
Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Sudha Devi Nayak has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic. As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value. Out-takes are kept in the THF Archives. Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.
Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems.
Poem for commentary:
distant stars— the refugee mother rewrites her lullaby —Hifsa Ashraf The Haiku Foundation Haiku Dialogue October 29, 2025
Footnote:
Anju Kishore is a Pushcart Prize nominee, a Touchstone Award longlister, and an award-winning editor of numerous free-verse anthologies. Formerly a finance professional, ‘…and I Stop to Listen’ (2018) and ‘My Conversations with God, Life, and Death’ (2025) are her solo collections of poems. Her poetry has appeared in anthologies like Aatish 2, Late-blooming Cherries 2024 (Haiku Poetry from India, Harper Collins), and The Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English 2022, 2023, and 2024.
re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).
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