The Power of Poetry: The Art of Losing Book Review

I recently attended two memorial services--both amazing, well-loved people we lost too soon. Although my husband and I have had the joy of bringing our amazing daughter into the world this year, it has been a year of loss for several families that we love. Those somber occasions have given me time to linger in the space where loss leaves us, and I've found myself searching for words of comfort for myself and for people I love.

I came across The Art of Losing, a compilation put together by poet Kevin Young, at a time in my life when I desperately needed some solace. The book spoke to me immediately, and it provided me with a reservoir of language that consoled my hurting heart. I've come back to that book many times over the years, and I've come to think of it as an old friend who's always there, undemanding but ready when needed.

The image on the cover still resonates with me. The ribbon wrapped around the book is breaking--the threads are unraveling as it rips apart. (Thanks to Goodreads for the image, where you can also read about the book.)

That is what grief is like for me. Unraveling. The tearing of threads that were once woven together. A rip that cannot be repaired.

We all grieve if we live long enough. And yet grief is so individual, so intense, so unique... so lonely. We all hurt differently, and that individuality can make the pain so much sharper. It can leave us feeling so lost and so alone.

It's in that space--in the quiet solitude of grief--that poetry can enter, and Kevin Young found and compiled poems that speak to all of the stages of grief. Young worked on the compilation after he lost his father and discovered the lack of writings and compilations that addressed grieving in a meaningful way. It's such a beautiful, thoughtful edition, and it can offer comfort in a way that few collections can.

Today is the ten year anniversary of my mother's death. There are dates that we remember but do not celebrate.

When my mother died, I felt so lost. I didn't know how to grieve, or how to let other people who loved me enter into the space of my pain. I remember lots of people said lots of consoling things, but many of them felt superficial. In my bitterness and hurt, I couldn't understand their kindness. However, I'll never forget one person's response. At the school where I had just begun teaching, a mentor there simply recited a poem to me. I can still remember that moment so clearly; it was more powerful during that difficult period than any of the words that people said to me. It was then that I truly discovered the power of poetry.

The poem is included in the compilation by Young. It's Theodore Roethke's villanelle, "The Waking":

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?   
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?   
God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there,   
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?   
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do   
To you and me; so take the lively air,   
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.   
What falls away is always. And is near.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

That moment will always stay with me. It's a reminder when I see others grieve that sometimes the simple beauty of poetry can be more comforting than the endless struggle to try to find the right words. 

Sometimes there are no right words.

Kevin Young does an amazing job in his compilation of moving through the stages of grief, and the poems range in style and thematic elements. The sections are: Reckoning, Regret, Remembrance, Ritual, Recovery, and Redemption. The poems within each section suit the aspect of grief that the title indicates. There's also an excellent index by subject that can help those of us trying to find the right poem for someone we love who is hurting. In Young's introduction to the compilation, he thoughtfully articulates the tender way he put together the works. His opening line, "I have begun to believe in, and even to preach, a poetry of necessity," speaks to the power that poetry has to reach places that nothing else can. Though I hope that none of you find this particular necessity in your lives, this compilation is there for you (or your students) when you have the need.

I love this poem from the compilation that Kevin Young wrote himself about losing his father:

"Bereavement"

Behind his house, my father's dogs
sleep in kennels, beautiful,
he built just for them.

They do not bark.
Do they know he is dead?
They wag their tails

& head. They beg
& are fed.
Their grief is colossal

& forgetful.
Each day they wake
seeking his voice,

their names.
By dusk they seem
to unremember everything --

to them even hunger
is a game. For that, I envy.
For that, I cannot bear to watch them

pacing their cage. I try to remember
they love best confined space
to feel safe. Each day

a saint comes by to feed the pair
& I draw closer
the shades.

I've begun to think of them
as my father's own sons,
as kin. Brothers-in-paw.

My eyes each day thaw.
One day the water cuts off.
Then back on.

They are outside dogs --
which is to say, healthy
& victorious, purposeful

& one giant muscle
like the heart. Dad taught
them not to bark, to point

out their prey. To stay.
Were they there that day?
They call me

like witnesses & will not say.
I ask for their care
& their carelessness --

wish of them forgiveness.
I must give them away.
I must find for them homes,

sleep restless in his.
All night long I expect they pace
as I do, each dog like an eye

roaming with the dead
beneath an unlocked lid.

There's a nice NPR article about the compilation that I found when searching for the above poem online. You can listen to Young reading his poem "Bereavement," as well as another amazing poem, "Redemption Song," the title of which alludes powerfully to Bob Marley's legacy of hope and encouragement in difficult times.

For our students, as for us all, we need to provide a space for grief in our lives. Kevin Young's compilation might open the door for hard discussions, or it might give students a tool to wield when faced with the harsh reality of loss. It might remind them (and reawaken us to the fact) that we are here. We are listening.

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