Poetry

Railroad tracks split the campus in half
and at night you’d lie on your narrow cot
and listen to the lonely whistle
of a train crossing the prairie in the dark.
“The Beginning of Poetry” Edward Hirsch, The Living Fire

It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
From “Asphodel, that Greeny Flower” William Carlos Williams

In the first two weeks of May I attended two poetry readings – one given by Robert Bly and the other a joint reading offered by Minnesota poets Connie Wanek and Joyce Sutphen. That I was free both these evenings was something of a miracle. That I could attend these readings was a gift of grace.
I first fell in love with poetry in high school. Words seem to have a certain power, a certain magic and when put together rhythmically and beautifully they plunged deep into my soul. My love affair with poetry waxed and waned over the years, but became intense again as I worked on my doctorate. The PBS series, Voices and Visions came out during that time, and watching it, hearing poems read – Wallace Stevens, Elizabeth Bishop, others - rekindled a deeper passion that has stayed lit since. Reading poetry has feed my soul, sparked my imagination, ignited my mind, set my heart to dancing. Reading poetry has helped me enormously in my reading of the Bible which is filled with so much poetic language. The brevity of parables has a poetic quality.
And so I read. And so I listen.

To live without rotting from within,
to ignore imperfections of the skin,
to be heavy, and still be chosen,
to please a strict vegetarian,
to end the day full of light.
From “Pumpkin” Connie Wanek, On Speaking Terms

What you wanted was no less than the truth,
something you could hold lightly in your hand.

What you found was this uncertainty,
memory mixed with desire. How we live.
From “How We Live” Joyce Sutphen, First Words

And so I read. And so I listen. And I am changed.

Rene Char
you are a poet who believes
in the power of beauty
to right all wrongs,
I believe it also.
With invention and courage
we shall surpass
the pitiful dumb beasts,
let all men believe it
as you have taught me also
to believe it.
From “To a Dog Injured In the Street” William Carlos Williams, Pictures from Brueghel

Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.
Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Poetry helps me be there.

And the Word became flesh… full of grace and truth. And the grace and truth that became flesh can become word again, often in the words of poets.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David