This has been a particularly awful stretch of American history. Buffalo, Uvalde, and now the Supreme Court ruling on women’s rights have left us bereft. Jordan Jace, a contemporary Black poet born in Los Angeles, wrote “I Want” in order to “write a poem about optimism and fostering a culture of revolution.” Two worthy goals.

While waiting for the George Floyd verdict to be delivered, poet Camille Dungy put pen to paper.  Ms. Dungy is a decorated poet and editor who writes about nature, family, and the common histories that people share.  She has said “Being black, being a woman, being a daughter, being a person who feels deeply connected to the greater-than-human world: all these states of being are part of who I am. If there has not been a place for all these parts of me thus far in American letters, it’s my job to create that space and to inhabit it with honesty, integrity, beauty, and joy.”  The lines she penned during Derek Chauvin’s trial were all those things. 

Former Poet Laureate Rita Dove’s “Transit” reflects on the life of Holocaust survivor Alice Herz-Sommer, who spent 2 years in Theresienstadt concentration camp. While it recalls events of 80 years ago, its themes-- resilience and self-sustenance—still apply today in every corner of the world, particularly in the Ukraine. This weekend, as we celebrate Ramadan, Easter, and Passover, chances are we will all take a moment to think of our fellow human beings and wish them sustenance.

On the one year anniversary of the Atlanta shootings, we mourn the lives lost and stand in solidarity with our Asian American friends, family, colleagues, and neighbors. To celebrate the rich contributions and powerful voices of the Asian community, we'll share Su Cho’s breathtaking poem, “A Little Cheonyeo Gwishin Appears in My Kitchen." Ms. Cho earned her MFA in 2017, and is already the recipient of a National Society of Arts and Letters Award and a Pushcart Prize nominee.

Emma Lazarus, who is best known for her poem about the Statue of Liberty (The New Colossus), was also a nature lover. She began today's poem about Long Island Sound with a look into the past ("I see it as it looked ... in August"), reminding us of the power of memory and reminiscence. While we wait for summer, and to return to the aspects of our lives that are on hold, these powers have become incredibly important.

The Russian war in Ukraine is painful to watch. After two years on the front lines of a pandemic, we suddenly find ourselves watching from afar.

Ukrainian poet Ilya Kaminsky's poem “We Lived Happily During The War” was first published in 2009, and included in his collection Deaf Republic in 2019; this week it has been shared broadly across social media. In an interview, Kaminsky said: The poem is meant to serve as a wake-up call; to prevent people from reading "Deaf Republic" as a tragedy of elsewhere. Kaminsky was born in Odessa; his family was granted political asylum in the United States in 1993. In 2019 the BBC named him one of “12 Artists who changed the world.”

March is Women’s History Month. It is doubly tragic, then, to view the images of pregnant women carried from Mariupol Children’s Hospital after the air strike on Wednesday March 9. Let’s turn to the words of Lucille Clifton, whose poem ends on a note of unshakable strength.

With gratitude to Our Break Room Intern Myles Ringel for selecting this poem.

Ross Gay is a contemporary American poet who spent an entire year (beginning on his 42nd birthday) writing about joy. As he scribbled his daily observations, he realized that his central question as a poet was “What is this joy?” Some of my favorite Ross Gay poems contain breathtaking images of daily delights.

What communities hold you up? Which ones do you sustain? Native American poet Kimberly Blaeser explores this idea in one of her most recent poems—short, simple, and with a powerful message. One of our favorite things about this poem is that much of its important “work” happens in the parenthetical. Sometimes this is true of our work, too—the unwitnessed moments of connection, the uncelebrated phone call, the extra moment of observation that makes us run late, but leads to a diagnosis.

Poet Langston Hughes was a major figure in the Harlem Renaissance. Today's poem, by Hughes, is a mother to son monologue about racism, and the dark and dangerous staircase that Black Americans must climb instead of the “crystal stair” available to others. The poem is especially relevant this year and for Black History month, although it has meaning across time and place, and on multiple levels. Importantly, it holds forth hope that perseverance and mutual support can help ease a difficult journey, bringing us back to grace under pressure-- the definite theme of the year.

Ross Gay is one of our favorite poets. He writes in a brutally honest way about sadness, but always points out that there is much to delight in. He has said “delight often emerges very beautifully out of a kind of compost of sorrow.” Perfect words as we emerge from a pandemic and look forward to better times.

Thirteen-year-old Anne Frank, from her hiding place in an attic annex, wrote beautifully about the solace that can be found in nature. Her optimism, and her descriptions of the world’s innate beauty, are inspiring as we hold on a few more days for spring.

Just in time for the February blues, this poem reminds us of the amazing strength and durability of the human race. We've got this. Thank you to Beth Hahn for sharing this poem.

Happy Valentine's Day! Today’s poem is by Chen Chen, a contemporary poet and essayist who describes himself as “interested in Asian American histories and futures, family (bio and found), queer friendship, multilingualism, humor, and pop culture.” His writing is fanciful, tender, and full of love for the world and people around him.

During Black History Month, we celebrate poet, activist, and storyteller Maya Angelou. At the age of eight, Angelou stopped speaking and remained mute until she was twelve, when her English teacher encouraged her with poetry. By the time she was thirty, she had joined the Harlem Writer’s Guild, setting the scene for her virtuosic literary career.

El Salvadoran poet and activist Roque Dalton was frequently exiled, but always returned to his home country. He began this poem with “like you,” inviting the reader into his world, and suggesting that people are more similar than different. We honor his voice, and those of todos los Hispanos, during Hispanic Heritage month.

The city is coming back to life. It calls to mind the poem Fire Flowers, in which wildflowers bloom beautifully in the aftermath of a forest fire. The poet, Emily Pauline Johnson, was half Mohawk and half English, and was born on Six Nations Reserve near Ontario, Canada. She often used the structure and style of English poetry to convey Native American beliefs and legends.

What communities hold you up? Which ones do you sustain? Native American poet Kimberly Blaeser explores this idea in one of her most recent poems—short, simple, and with a powerful message. One of our favorite things about this poem is that much of its important “work” happens in the parenthetical. Sometimes this is true of our work, too—the unwitnessed moments of connection, the uncelebrated phone call, the extra moment of observation that makes us run late, but leads to a diagnosis.