Words2021-04-10T06:16:26-04:00

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Words

The Sunday Poem: “I Come from a Place So Deep Inside America It Can’t Be Seen” by Kari Gunter-Seymour

All through Kari Gunter-Seymour’s striking and precisely rendered poem, we feel a bone-deep desire to be known, to be touched in the midst of both geographical and perhaps some greater isolation.

By |02.26.22|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: “I Come from a Place So Deep Inside America It Can’t Be Seen” by Kari Gunter-Seymour

The Sunday Poem: “Winter Sun” by Molly Fisk

Molly Fisk’s simple yet profound poem speaks to nature’s constant cycles of death and rebirth, and our own part in them. She also points out how deprivation, especially in the depths of winter’s shorter days, when we’re forced to stay more distant from each other, can help us appreciate any little light when it does come, sometimes seemingly out of nowhere.

By |02.12.22|The Sunday Poem, Words|1 Comment

The Sunday Poem: “In My Mind’s Coral, Mother Still Calls Us from Inside” by Jennifer G. Lai

We often dismiss it as nostalgia when we look back with joy on those simpler, more innocent times in our lives. Yet as Jennifer G. Lai’s poem illustrates so well, certain periods in life simply are less complicated, before our culture, families, and peers place their expectations and limitations on us, before a larger awareness of the world seeps in.

By |02.05.22|The Sunday Poem, Words|1 Comment

The Sunday Poem: “Coffee Break” by Kwame Dawes

The repetition of words and phrases in “Coffee Break”—such as “Coffee would be nice”—lends this poem an incantatory, prayer-like quality that often appears in Kwame Dawes’ work. But what we think will be a portrait of a man offering to make his sick friend a cup of coffee on a cool evening, quickly becomes a larger meditation on life’s transience.

By |01.22.22|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: “Coffee Break” by Kwame Dawes

The Sunday Poem: “My Mother Says She Does Not Know How to Cook” by Shuly Xóchitl Cawood

We often think of resilience as the ability to spring back instantly from a challenging, harrowing time in our lives. Yet Shuly Cawood’s tender portrait of her mother as a resilient woman who has risen above difficult circumstances to make a life for herself and her family in the U.S. implies that resilience is a muscle built more slowly over time.

By |01.01.22|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: “My Mother Says She Does Not Know How to Cook” by Shuly Xóchitl Cawood

The Sunday Poem: “Tutuwas” by Joseph Bruchac

One can almost hear the song of a rustling wind passing through tree branches in the word, “Tutuwas,” which the poet uses here. Tracing the etymology of this evocative term, Joseph Bruchac writes that “Tutuwas” carries “more than one connotation. It’s the name of a song that’s also called ‘Little Pines,’ which can be heard in all our various Wabanaki nations throughout New England.

By |12.25.21|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: “Tutuwas” by Joseph Bruchac

The Sunday Poem: “Arctic Night, Lights Across the Sky” by Linda Hogan

As she does in so much of her work, Linda Hogan fosters a quiet yet wide-sweeping intimacy in this poem. Here, we find the affection of a speaker and her beloved, “em-braced/in animal presence,” curled up with their dog and cat before bed on a winter night. Yet Hogan masterfully extends this closeness until the whole world is also held at the warm center of this late night scene.

By |12.11.21|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: “Arctic Night, Lights Across the Sky” by Linda Hogan
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