Dear friends,
Your stories of what has been hard-won for you moved me deeply. Thank you for your words and for your comments to each other.
This week — Wednesday, to be exact — is Emily Dickinson’s 195th birthday. She was born on December 10, 1830. I love her work, her poems, her letters. They are a constant reminder of what it is a deep pursuit of a vocation can do. She wrote almost 1,800 poems, mostly between the age of 27 and 35.
Here’s a favourite:
You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night— You cannot fold a Flood— And put it in a Drawer— Because the Winds would find it out— And tell your Cedar Floor—
This poem is from Sheet 5, put together by Emily Dickinson in the summer of 1863. She often put little packages — facsimiles, she called them — of poems and sent them to friends. (I always go to Emily Dickinson’s Poems As She Preserved Them by Cristanne Miller [editor] for reference.)
What was happening in 1863? The American Civil War.
It is a dangerous thing to imagine what any poet meant when they wrote a poem. All we can do is recognise the event of it, read it carefully, and see what occurs in us as we respond.
For me, reading these eight lines, I think of what feels uncontainable: fire and flood. Winds too. I think of Emily Dickinson’s interest in the past, how it needs to be attended to, and I find myself seeing this poem as one of remembrance, one of warning, one of reckoning with the things that have gone before and how their power must be attended to.
It’s entirely possible, of course, that it’s not the past she’s talking about at all. She may be talking about the present — the terrors of the now and how they cannot be neatly folded away “in a Drawer—”. Why? She’s clear: the “winds would find it out— / And tell your Cedar Floor— ”. The very floor upon which we stand will hear news of what it is that’s being hidden.
This week, I am interested to hear from you: What work does this poem do in you? Is it its craft or choice of language? Or perhaps it evokes a specific memory or line of thought?
I look forward to seeing you in the comments, friends. And also: Happy Emily Dickinson’s Birthday to all who celebrate!
Poetry in the World
A list of my events: Online and in the US (Chicago, IL; Stockbridge, MA; Minneapolis, MN; Berkeley, CA; Washington, DC; Manhattan, Kingston, and Rhinebeck, NY; Orlando, FL; Notre Dame, IN) and the UK (Iona, Scotland)
I’m glad to join Mark Burrows for Reading Rilke Today, his free annual Rilke event, in this year of his 150th birthday (Rilke’s, not Mark’s) at 4 p.m. ET. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
December 11, Chicago, Illinois
I’m honored to be reading alongside E. Ethelbert Miller at the 27th Annual Peace Concert, which is a free event. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
From 7-8:30 p.m. GMT (or 2-3:30 p.m. ET), I’ll be sharing poems exploring desire, want, lack, and fulfilment as part of the Iona Community’s Advent events. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
December 19–21, Stockbridge, Massachusetts
I’m leading a retreat called “Poetry of Peace” at the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
Save the date for an online conversation between me and poet and novelist Reshma Ruia. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
January 16, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Come join me at the Hope Arts Center, where I’ll give a reading followed by a conversation with poet G.E. Patterson and a book signing. It all begins at 7 p.m. (For more info and to secure your tickets, click on the date heading.)
January 17, Minneapolis, Minnesota
I’m leading a generative workshop on the space between poetry and prayer at The Loft Literary Center at 10 a.m. (For more info and to secure your tickets, click on the date heading.)
January 29, Berkeley, California
I’ll be presenting an evening keynote at The Center for Faith and Justice. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
February 2, Washington, District of Columbia, and Online
Join poet Marilyn Nelson and me for a conversation at the Washington National Cathedral at 7 p.m ET. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
February 19, Manhattan, New York
I’m giving a lecture on storytelling and narrative poetry at The Morgan Library at 6:30 p.m. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
I’m giving a keynote address at Training Magazine’s annual exposition. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
February 26–March 1, Kingston, New York
I’m leading a weekend retreat workshop called “Poems of Longing”. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
I’ll be giving the keynote for a symposium at the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
May 31–June 5, Rhinebeck, New York
This spring, I’m leading a six-day workshop at the Omega Institute. We’ll read and examine poems and also write and discuss our own. I’d love to see you there. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
June 27–July 3, 2026, Iona, Scotland
Krista and I will be leading a week of conversation (with some musical guests) on Iona, an island off an island off the west coast of Scotland. It is filled, but if you want to be on a waiting list, you can email the Saint Columba hotel by clicking on the title just above here. (For more info, click on the date heading.)
A birthday candle atop a cake
Cannot be blown out, it’a a fake!
You blow it out, it reignites!
Each attempt excites, excites!
All candles are made to burn
First the light, then just the wick
Eventually we all might learn
Light without dark is just a trick.
- Dwight Lee Wolter
It is hard to tell whether the great Emily is describing what goes on inside her or out in the world. So the richness of understanding this poem could easily be both all at once. No matter which, the unadorned images of the drawer, a cedar floor, a fire ignites, the futility of folding a flood in a drawer, describes a stark powerlessness that feels so real. Slow night stands out. Not long night. But a slow night. What or who makes it slow? What does a slow night mean?
A fast fire on a slow night.
Today I turn 70 and reaching this age I feel a tremendous mix of gratitude and fear. Born on Pearl Harbor Day ten years after the end of WW 2 into fresh American suburban melting pot horrors and possibilities, I have long felt the winds of worlds whipping around me, inside me, grappling with a sense of what it means to have power and have none. As a teen I remember how impossible it was to be able to catch up with my own emotions, never mind what was going on in the world around me. Maybe the slow night saves us.