In her Introduction to the Collected Lyrics of Edna St. Vincent Millay (Harper’s Perennial, 1959), which I found myself reading today, Millay’s sister Norma Millay Ellis writes,
“More than ever, it would seem, we need our poets, and their work should be as accessible as possible.”
This thought stopped me in my reading tracks because it’s a thought I’ve heard a lot lately — and one have said at various junctures in my life. But now, it makes me wonder: Is this “now more than ever” feeling one that arises in every generation? That we need our poets, of course, makes sense. But do we truly need them more than ever?
I imagine that what I feel today about the need for poetry is true for many attuned people of every generation. On the one hand, I suppose, it’s a response to the horrors we witness far too often — the shocking hubris of certain world leaders, the haughtiness of the ultra-rich, the growing injustices and the unalleviated suffering of the poor and powerless. On the other hand, it’s a more personal response to the feeling that, individually, we’re barely muddling along. It’s a kind of prayer for more depth in our lives, a wish to be better than we are, more connected, more attuned, wiser, kinder, thoughtful, caring. We want our poets to remind us of the complex beauty in life. We want to connect with that sense of awe. Find our better forms of passion.
In an interview after reading her poem “The Hill We Climb” at President Biden’s inauguration, Amanda Gorman said,
““Now more than ever, the United States needs an inaugural poem. Poetry is typically the touchstone that we go back to when we have to remind ourselves of the history that we stand on, and the future that we stand for.”
In the area of politics and poetry, my favorite speech is by a U.S. President, John F. Kennedy, speaking at the opening of the Robert Frost Library at Amherst College over a half-century ago. In it, Kennedy said,
“Robert Frost coupled poetry and power, for he saw poetry as the means of saving power from itself. When power leads men towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. For art establishes the basic human truth which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.”
Last month, I read that we need Walt Whitman now more than ever. The author was referring to Whitman’s oeuvre, but particularly to those oft-quoted lines, “I am large/ I contain multitudes.” If nothing else, it’s a excellent reminder that, as individuals, we both influence and shape and are influenced and shaped by the people in our lives — and, indeed, by the greater human society and natural world. Despite any claims of independence, we are now and forever dependent on each other. In this latter regard, Whitman’s pronouncement is a poetic call to embrace a democratic society, knowing that our strength and joy and greatness lie in our diversity. You know, E Pluribus Unum.
Along with the varied statements about the importance of poetry are the questions: Do we need poetry? Does poetry matter? What is poetry’s value? In all cases that I’m aware of the answer is a resounding yes.
But then I remember that few people I know — outside of the circle of friends who write poetry — read poetry regularly, or at all, and fewer still talk about poetry or ever consider the question of its value. More people, far more people, are intensely focused on consuming news — or what calls itself news these days — in print, on the Internet, and on television. When people read creative works, they tend to read novels. The closest some come to poetry is through listening to popular songs.
This disconnect is a bit confusion, of course. If, indeed, we need poetry in our lives, now more than ever, why don’t we have more poetry in our lives — now more than ever? I suppose if I put down this question in writing here, I should be prepared to offer an answer. But I hesitate to do so, knowing that any response I give will simply echo the thousands of responses that are already out in the world claiming poetry’s importance for each generation — along with the few, always eager, contrarian voices.
My sense is that, for many people today, poetry feels unimportant or perhaps just uninteresting. They see it as another minor art form that certain people are obsessed with — say, like folks who only listen to polka music. A rather sad quip among poets these days is that more people write poetry than read it. Or perhaps its a one-to-one correlation.
I’m not here to make any large claims for poetry. I simply believe that it does matter. Maybe not more than ever. But it matters. And while I can’t speak for earlier generations encouraging the reading and contemplation of poetry, I would say we need it today (and yesterday and tomorrow) to help us:
know ourselves better:
address and mend the suffering we created for those living on the ragged margins of society;
center the collective need to heal a planet spinning toward its sixth extinction for just about all living beings;
deepen the thinking and understanding of those in positions of power — that, as Kennedy encourages, they may keep humility and love front and center in every decision made;
counter our worst impulses, individually and collectively; and
feed the nagging wish to lead lives that are both meaningful and threaded with joy.
I suppose poetry alone can’t fix the world. It is, after all, just words on the page. But I know it can be both a salve to our suffering and a valued guide to how we live each and every day. For those who are committed to reading and writing poetry, it serves as a kind of spiritual practice — a way of connecting heaven and earth.
In her poem, “Two Voices,” Edna St. Vincent Millay ends with these lines:
…let us leave our nests and flock and tell
All that we know, all that we can piece together,
of a time when all went, or seemed to go, well.