Note: For Rundel: Sessions will recommence July 3 and run through Aug. 14. NO MEETINGS in June or next week.For Pittsford: There is NO SESSION June 18.
Poems: In a Village in the West Bank by Naomi Shihab Nye; Saying Grace by Abby E. Murray; There Is a Fire by Michael Lavers; What Does It Say by Tess Gallagher; In a Country None of Us Called Home by Peg Bresnahan; Hedge, that divides the lovely Garden by Torquato Tasso
Nutshell:
In a Village... : This first poem triggered a discussion on the nature of poetry. What makes this anecdotal scene a poem? If it had been in a block as an essay, would the lines have unfolded as they did, contrasting the words of the boy in quotations? It starts in media res -- in the middle of things -- a boy writing a book and speaking about his work in class conducted by zoom. We imagined reading the poem with two voices, one of the boy saying, "It's about a problem" the other the poet/teacher providing information -- first about soldiers sneaking around in the occupied land breaking into houses, chopping olive trees, smashing lamps. The boy's voice reiterates: A problem between spiders and ants. Now, we hear a commentary, how refreshing, to look at a problem not made by humans. Were the details about spiders and ants accurate? Does that matter?
Now, the boy's voice disappears and we hear the interpretation of the teacher. The trigger of imagining his parents speaking Arabic, and her homesickness for all that represents for her. The reader is given three different "spaces", what a world looks like, long ago before the war, for spiders and ants, for warring soldiers.
I don't mean to re-tell the poem, but show the layers livened into the bread of the poem kneaded with air.
Parallels, images, anthropomorphizing, an example of imagination at work, the beauty of an idea this boy believes in and will illustrate. And the final three lines that give a clue of what the ants can do so they don't all get killed, ending with: "It's not that hard."
We agreed, the poem gave us hope. Perhaps it is a two-state solution for Palestine/Israel, but regardless,
we engaged with the boy, his world, replete with hints of smells, tastes. We are reminded about who we are, who we pretend to look like, and how this links with what we do to survive, in turn connected to how species take up space. Does that matter when addressing a larger issue about re
I doubt a block of prose could provide such an ample and rich understanding.
Saying Grace: If you don't pause before eating, perhaps not even sitting down with others, I'll be glad to share the roomful of shares of things to say before a meal from "rub-a-dub dub, thanks for the grub. Yay God", to more formal blessings and the Quaker respectful silence before eating. Tucked into the poem are lines like following holiness where it goes and we give thanks/and feel certain that somewhere beyond us/our gratitude matters: Breaking habits... miracle of rest... small things we take for granted as gifts "we only seem to give away." As Graeme remarked, the title is a perfect high-dive platform and we join the poet plunging in, glad for each drop of detail. Well... the bottom line is everyone LOVED this poem. Every line and line break so perfect, effortless and delightful.
There is a fire: We agreed, powerful imagery but quite an uneven poem. Art, nature, children and this idea of trying... watching "God bloom". Perhaps the purple comb comes from Gorky's painting or a poem about a Chinese wife who died leaving it behind. Objects are meaningful in different ways to different people and many shared associations the poem brought up.
Reality filtered through memory animated with feeling... ?
The quote chosen by the poet sums it up: "In art there is only one thing that matters: that which cannot be explained."
What Does it Say: the title feels incomplete. What is "it"? Or is it a general, "what does that say about us... about a person, about things...). The line breaks are fabulous-- and enjambed stanza breaks an extra dollop of pleasure. What needs repair, restoration in this "falling-apart era" ? Why in a world that "walks around/only in new shoes" do we not ask for that shoe repairman, alive to our "need to be treated mercifully..." ? We enjoyed sharing comments about "the patina of use" and how things are more interesting when they have "wear" in them... , memories of the shoe repair shop, and more. The final three lines are a beautifully phrased commentary of such a repairman as we walk through life. It's not the shoes... but the journey...
someone to companion our fragile hopes
in the form of these emptied out,
unsalvageable steps.
In a Country... The final poem starts with unpinnable circumstances, and then, a serendipitous cab ride replete with multiple details that left us all wanting to revive whistle power! As one person put, "I don't envy the cab driver". Delightful and of course, allowing us to think about what makes us "feel at home" in general as well as when traveling.
Hedge that divides: Lovely poem in courtly love tradition where hedge/lover can be interchanged... the sense of touch especially makes the poem feel alive.
In closing, Neil shared this poem from Pat Janus, in her book, Synchronicity
Opening
To sit with tea
and contemplate the blessings of
the morning
the possibility
of magic,
the potential
for adventure,
the depth
of mystery,
before I am
swallowed up
by the need
for doing/
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