Dear friends,
I was so moved by your replies last week — the moments of kindness and neighbourliness you shared were so meaningful. Thank you for those, and for the stories of consideration, strangeness, and imagination you experienced. Vulnerability too. It made my week to read them.
Also, my week was made by jet lag. I’m in Australia, and pretending that the 14-hour difference from New York to Melbourne is nothing, darlings, nothing.
So, this week it’s a short poem and a short question, based on “Kulila” by Ali Cobby Eckerman, the brilliant Yankunytjatjara Australian Aboriginal poet. We made a Poetry Unbound episode about it a few years back.
Here are the first two stanzas:
Sit down sorry camp Might be one week Might be long long time Tell every little story When the people was alive Tell every little story more
From “Kulila” by Ali Cobby Eckermann (Giramondo Publishing)
This poem bears witness to the necessity of remembering, the reality of how stories of sorrow are carried in the land and the body, how stolen land has a living ghost that needs to be heard, and how that echoes in the bodies of people.
The poem has an intelligence about lament too. And that leads me to my question: What’s a sorrow that’s been a teacher to you in your life?
We know that there are sorrows that are unpreventable, and sorrows that are entirely based on terrible choices. I hope that those who cause sorrows choose to cease causing them. But I know that one way or another, we’ve all had to live with sorrows: their lessons, their sharp edges, their danger signs. I don’t extol them. I just know that I’ve had to learn them.
A sorrow that’s been a teacher to me: a loneliness I’ve known all my life. I believed it was an indication of personal and profound failure. I do not think this anymore; we are connected and alone, and the holding of both those truths has helped. I do not see it as a failure now, and even the sorrow’s truth has become a companion. And — strangely — a point of connection.
I’ll look forward to hearing from you in the comments, friends.
Poetry in the World
A list of events: In Australia (Melbourne, Queenscliff, Sydney) and Ireland (Cork, Dublin, Listowel) and online
May 2–4, Queenscliff, Victoria, Australia
I’ll be speaking at the delicious sacrededge festival. More info here.
May 7, Sydney, Australia
The marvelous Miriam of Poetica is organising a poetry reading in the evening. Get tickets here.
May 8, Sydney, Australia
I’ll be speaking in the morning at the Welcoming Cities Symposium. Registration here.
May 8–11, Melbourne, Australia
I’ll be speaking on the Saturday (May 10) of the Melbourne Writers Festival. Festival info here.
May 13–17, Cork, Ireland
I’ll be reading and conducting an interview at the Cork International Poetry Festival. Details here.
May 20, Dublin, Ireland
I’ll be reading at the International Literature Festival Dublin (ILFD). Information here.
May 29, Listowel, County Kerry, Ireland
I’ll be reading at Listowel Writers’ Week. Information here.
June 2, 3, 9, 10, online
I’ll be teaching an online four-session course (6-9 p.m., ET) with Union Theological College; it’s called “Tools of Narrative Theology” and explores literary readings of Biblical texts. You can register here. And if you have any questions, you can send them via the email on the course page (find it under the “CONTACT” heading).
Since I was 8 years old, my older brother has been an addict. Though he has had some short stretches of semi-sobriety, mostly he has not. Anyone who knows addiction knows that its tentacles extend to and ensnare most everyone within reach. The ways this sorrow has shaped my life for the past 54 years are myriad. But the most pervasive way is the hard, hard learning that compassion is sometimes an inadequate response; that sometimes love can't do anything at all. That it is imperative to choose comforting, loving, and creating safety for myself. That ultimately, despite all the wishing and hoping and working and trying, that is the place I must land.
My greatest sorrow is that my mom died when I was 18. Sorrow’s gift is empathy with those who experience loss. And also meeting and bonding with others who live with a like loss.