Julie Schwerin — Touchstone Award for Individual Poems Winner 2024

Julie Schwerin is the recipient of a Touchstone Award for Individual Poems for 2024 for the poem:

     —Julie Schwerin, Trailblazer Contest 2024

Commentary from the Panel: 

When a verb enters stage left in a haiku, pay attention: verbs work hard in a short poem. To “bear” is to carry and to endure. The battle over the second amendment in this country means that the line, “right to bear,” rolls off the tongue and carries, (bears) associations and battles over what those rights mean, that mean this haiku begins with a decorous stage: the bill of rights, and we anticipate syntax that takes us to a discussion of our rights.

This haiku is upended at that point with disjunction, with the mind making sense of the rest of the poem: What is an albatross? What does the albatross have a right to bear?

An albatross is a large oceanic bird, but now this poem bears a literary allusion from Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner’s reference to “an albatross of a marriage.” The second meaning of albatross is to bear an encumbrance, a source of frustration or guilt. The right to bear or not bear was lost to women when Roe was overturned, and the decision of whether to bear or not was lost, and with it, the treatment options for women whose pregnancies are troubled in some way. The right to bear is paradoxically removed by the U.S. Supreme Court, but added in this poem as a pregnancy or troubled pregnancy one must endure or must carry. Add the nuance of whether a pregnancy continues, may mean continuing in a marriage or not continuing in a relationship, can make the secondary considerations of marriage or singleness another albatross of the U.S. Supreme Court decision.

Most haiku have a reading or two they give the reader, then they bow, pick up their paycheck, and go home. Now this six-word (six word!) poem presents a cross where the “t” stands in the last word, and the last word, if you will, is that the cross has an outsized influence on the last word. This cross is the central symbol of Christianity, and some of that faith advocated for decades to outlaw abortion. This symbol is loaded for many — with strong associations, and those associations are multiplied as the tall “t” towers over the last word, and the poem. Whether this was cause for rejoicing or lament, the symbol towers over this poem and asks: “What is that symbol doing in this poem?”

The cross and its religion are suggested in the word that means to hinder accomplishment, carrying someone else’s cross, and someone else’s political view now made your reality by means of losing your rights. Add that “alba” means white — and you have added a little white cross to the poem — of the kind that dot the countryside where tragedies have taken place and must be remembered.

Some may wish that haiku remain strongly associated with nature to be a haiku. This poem bears the stamp of human nature: struggle, political and religious conflicts, and the power of the human spirit to endure.

These six words point to a moment — if you are looking for a moment in this haiku, it was the moment when Roe V. Wade was overturned, and while some rejoiced, for some, it was a gut punch. Maternal care became a minefield for doctors and a nightmare for women and their families, with complicated considerations. This poem is original, acutely relevant to our moment, bears literary allusion, and whispers the word “bear,” which calls for human endurance, whatever the albatross.

Touchstone winners receive a crystal award to commemorate their selection. See the complete list of winners of both Individual Poem Awards and Distinguished Books Awards in the Touchstone Archives.