TRANSCRIPT

I’m Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

I’m no longer on Twitter — now called by another name entirely — but back in 2017, it was a space where I met and interacted with so many writers and artists and musicians. One day, I asked “Literary Twitter” for poems that make you glad to be alive. Folks on social media did not disappoint! It turned into a very long thread of poetry recommendations: a crowd-sourced online anthology of poems we can turn to, poems to remind us of the sweetness of life.

People suggested “The Orange” by Wendy Cope, “Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude” by Ross Gay, and “Small Kindnesses” by Danusha Lameris. They offered up “What the Living Do” by Marie Howe, “won’t you celebrate with me” by Lucille Clifton, and “To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall” by Kim Addonizio. Some of my personal favorites!

The number of responses surprised me but probably shouldn’t have. I know the power of a life-affirming poem. Poems have helped get me out of bed in the morning, and poems have helped me settle my mind at night. Poems speak to us in our grief and loneliness and confusion, and poems speak to us in our profound peace, and our awe, and our gratitude. As Mary Oliver wrote, “Joy is not made to be a crumb,” and yes, there were also plenty of Mary Oliver poems on that list.

A couple of years ago I re-shared the poem list on my Substack, and subscribers suggested even more poems to add. It’s become a living, breathing document. One person commented, “Amazing how during times of stagnation, frustration and mornings that begin under the weight of grief, a simple poem can pick your head up and reposition perspective toward the light.” Another wrote, “A few years ago, I started copying poems out longhand and mailing them to friends and loved ones. It's become a kind of spiritual practice for me, and I'm always on the lookout for new poems to share.”

I love this idea, and I love that our archive here on The Slowdown might provide you with poems to be written out and mailed to people who will read them and be changed by them.

Today’s poem is one that I seek out, and one that I’m always glad to come across in the wild.

The Thing Is
by Ellen Bass

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you down like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief, 
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you 
I will love you, again.

“The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass from MULES OF LOVE © 2002 Ellen Bass. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of BOA Editions.