This weekend, our Department of Emergency Medicine lost a beloved friend and colleague. Today's poem by Emily Dickinson has many interpretations, but to me it reads as a poem of comfort. In it, she offers her heart humbly to the reader, along with the beauty of the natural world. The poem has the meter of a hymn, with the syllable count 8/6 alternating by line, much like Amazing Grace and other traditional hymns. Wishing comfort and grace to each of us today.

How did a few lines of poetry capture the nation’s imagination over eloquent speeches, famous singers, and so much pomp and circumstance? The critical work of poetry-- meaning-making-- is probably what we needed most. Amanda Gorman, in a few brilliant moments, gave meaning to the otherwise inarticulate chaos of past years. She reminded us who we are, and reassured us that “the new dawn blooms as we free it.” Thank you to Josyann Abisaab and Kyle McGee for finding the text of this poem.

How should a person enter fire? Put another way, how should we handle the pandemic strife and social pathos of our times? Poet Mary Oliver suggests that we can give in to fear and anger in “a fury of light,” or take a deep breath and confront it with an equal measure of grace. She goes so far as to use the word “happiness.”

It's hard to find the right words for the events-- political and pandemic-- of this past week. I considered poems about the USA, about resilience, and about patience. Ultimately, I've fallen back on our work. Nurse Practitioner and poet Cortney Davis writes about life in medicine with compassion, honesty, and a welcome touch of magic. She reminds me that there is no need to wait: I can make positive change, and be changed myself, every time I see a patient.

We made it through 2020, and are hopeful that better days are ahead. Step over, writes Kansas-born poet Wyatt Townley. Take in the view. Perfect words for moving into whatever is next.

The narrator of this famous Robert Frost poem stops his horse in the middle of the woods to enjoy a quiet moment in the snow.  There may be “miles to go” before we sleep, but perhaps we can follow suit, and take the holiday season to enjoy a moment of reflection.  As the poet reminds us: The woods are lovely, dark and deep. 

What and how can our children learn, now that in-person school is such a rare commodity? Brad Aaron Modlin’s poem about missing a day of school gives us some comfort: while we wait (and wait!) for school to return to normal, perhaps there is a parallel curriculum. Thank you to educator and artist Rebecca Bellingham for sharing this poem with me.

Every time we go to work, we step into the path of a deadly infection. Poet and astronomer Rebecca Elson, in Antidotes to Fear of Death, offers up the vastness of the universe as a counterpoint to fear and dread. She reminds us that our experience is not new—that humans have always feared extinction, and that we might find comfort in the infinite nature of space and time. Thank you to author Beth Hahn, my teacher at the Hudson Valley Writers’ Center, for sending me this poem.

This week our Department of Pediatrics marked a transition in leadership, one of many rituals and traditions that our hospital family has been able to continue and honor during the pandemic. Wendell Berry has just the right words for honoring a lifetime of education, experience, and wisdom, as well as the hands that receive the baton.

It’s a strange Thanksgiving, but here we are. While acknowledging the many losses of this year, perhaps we can be grateful for all we’ve held on to, and for the resilience, support systems, and brief moments of delight that have brought us this far. Poet M. Scott Momaday, a leading Native American voice and Pulitzer Prize winner, evokes these moments for us in his poem “The Delight Song of Tsoai-talee.”

The machinery is creaking back into gear as we engage with New York’s second wave of COVID. This winter, perhaps more than any other, we'll need to find quick pathways to inner peace. William Butler Yeats fashioned such a pathway in his 1888 poem, The Lake Isle of Innisfree.

Words are powerful. Poetry and prose can bear witness to the events of 2020, and even help make sense of them. Moreover, words can capture the moments of beauty we have managed despite all the uncertainty and loss. Consider brandishing a pen against the coming winter. Mary Oliver asks, “What could be more comforting?”

American Poet Laureate Joy Harjo wrote Ah, Ah over twenty years ago. It is an expression of joy, and an ode to the natural beauty of the USA.

As the election approaches, consider the words of poet Allison Adelle Hedge Coke, whose life represents a remarkable American experience. Born in Texas in the 1950’s, Hedge Coke moved often during her early life, working as a manual laborer and listening to the traditional tales told by her father, who was Native American. “America, I Sing You Back” is a love song to our country, and an admonition “to mature, to envision.” May we all, regardless of allegiances, envision a better future as we cast our ballots.

It can be hard to keep moving forward when we don’t know what the future holds.  13th century poet Rumi reminds us to keep on walking, and let the beauty we love be what we do.  An amazing message that fits this moment perfectly.   

This week, poet Louise Gluck won the Nobel Prize in Literature, becoming the first American woman to win the award since Toni Morrison in 1993.  Her work, which deals with human suffering, resilience, and starting anew, has become especially relevant during the COVID-19 pandemic. The final verse of her 2004 poem "October" acknowledges the loss of summer, the fear of winter, and reminds us quietly of the dazzling world around us.  

Thank you to Dr. Josyann Abisaab for stopping by the E.D. to share Ms. Gluck's poetry with me.

During a period of such significant uncertainty, it helps to get back to first principles—for example, grace. Poet, novelist, and environmentalist Wendell Berry is known for his poetry celebrating life and everyday miracles. He wrote the poem “Grace,” for his friend Gurney Norman.

Elizabeth Alexander is one of four poets to have participated in the inauguration of an American president (the others are Robert Frost, Maya Angelou, and Miller Williams). She is a founder of Cave Canem-- an organization dedicated to promoting and supporting African American poets-- and a chancellor of the American Academy of Poets. Her poem "Praise Song for the Day" reminds us about the many lives being lived across the country, and those that were lost in building it. “Any thing can be made, any sentence begun,” she writes, reminding us that life remains full of possibility.