Poetry Alive!
on Lucille Clifton and our interconnectedness
Welcome back to another edition of OFFICE HOURS with José Olivarez. Today, I’m going to be sharing a forward I wrote for the Poetry Alive! program anthology.
Poetry Alive! is a program hosted by George Mason University. It is an arts program for students at the Fairfax County Juvenile Detention Center. For the last handful of years, I’ve had the pleasure and honor of visiting with the students of Poetry Alive! I asked to write the forward to their class anthology, and with the permission of their instructors (shout out to Martheaus Perkins, Katey Funderburgh, Nicholas Ritter, and McKinley Johnson) I’m sharing the forward here. Thank you to the Poetry Alive! students for their beautiful poems.
Forward:
In the opening poem to Lucille Clifton’s Blessing The Boats, “the times,” Clifton writes, “the grains of dust would gather themselves/ along the streets and spell out: // these too are your children this too is your child.” I carry these words with me because we live in a moment that encourages us to forget Clifton’s revelation. We live in a moment that encourages us to only worry about ourselves. Never mind what’s happening in other countries or in other cities or in other houses. We are encouraged by our phones to believe we only need a screen to make true connections. We are encouraged by politicians that find new ways to split us. I write these words from New Jersey. If I turn my back on you, wherever you may be, I am lost.
I begin with Clifton because when I read the words of the young writers featured in this collection, I sense the same clarity and the same longing for connection. Here, the poets remind us that the guys, loves, friends, family, and ourselves are intertwined. When I read the opening line of JL’s poem: “Even though our loved ones aren’t here they’re here,” I want to yell it at every stranger I come across. Even though our loved ones aren’t here they’re here. It’s true and undeniable.
Over and over again, you will come across moments of genius in these writers’ poems. IH writes: “Speak away the darkness in the name of the sun.” Okay. I feel that. FC writes: “I was loyal to my ex except when I was with my other ex.” Heartbreaking. Humorous. Cold. Honest. Real. CEB writes “But I could be dead or alive/ Which one is worse.” Brutal. I feel it in my soul. It makes me want to cry. AAC writes: “Moving through the streets/ Where they suck/ You bone dry I stood.” Those lines breaks are layered and advanced. They break mid thought and carry suspense. These are writers that understand drama. They understand emotion.
I encourage you to read these poems because they are our children like Clifton reminds us. And because, conversely, we belong to them. And if you read these poems, you might feel something in your soul and in your heart calling out for connection. You might remember what it really means to be human and alive and on this planet with each other. I know I felt that reading these excellent poems. It is my honor to present them to you now.
--José Olivarez
Author of Promises of Gold
As a reminder, tomorrow, I’ll be hosting office hours from 8-9:30pm EST. I’ll post the zoom link tomorrow morning, and if you’d like to participate, you can join. I’ll open up break out rooms, so we can have private conversations about a poem you’re working on or anything else.
Thank you for reading.