Poetry Thursday: Carrying Chase Twichell
This week I carried with me "To the Reader: Polaroids" by Chase Twichell. I've never met Chase, though she will be reading at my university near the end of September, and she's someone I've followed through the years. Her poems are so finely constructed, with every line being confident, surely measured (not necessarily meaning metrical).
About having this particular poem during this particular week--a week of the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, of the dissipation of Tropical Storm Ernesto, of school cancellations, of my own obsessing recently over MFA programs and my own students' futures, and of the usual this and that--her words were more than a little reassuring for me, a prayerful buffering. I was also thinking of our Sprigs, who's going through a rough patch and needs a little quiet and time, as well as a number of my own non-on-line friends who also have certain resiliency and lightness, however slightly sad-toned, and their own persistency and carrying-on. To carry this poem made me think of their burdens, wishing them some ease along the way, especially the poem's closing lines:
May neither of us forsake the other.
The cloud persists in the darkness,
but the darkness does not persist.