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.

The definition of remember is “to recall from one's memory; to have an image in one's memory.” Memory has played a big role over the last 18 months, as we’ve reflected on life before Covid, or worked to preserve the memories of friends and family we lost. In this poem, Native American poet Joy Harjo invites us to recall the images and truths that are universal—before and after Covid, and into whatever is next.

The leaves are changing and the cold weather has arrived. Mary Oliver’s poem about Autumn begins with an invitation, “Don’t you imagine… ?”

Don’t be put off by this poem’s title! Mutilated means disfigured, or deprived of an important part. This poem by Polish writer Adam Zagajewski balances images of a disfigured world with images of happiness, human connection, and the natural world. Many people can relate to this juxtaposition as we start to leave Covid in the rearview.

The Jewish High Holidays are often celebrated by praying and eating together. This year, many people prayed over zoom, and ate around their own kitchen tables. This gorgeous poem by Jessica Greenbaum reminds us that there is “no congregation of figures needed.” We carry, within us, much more than we realize.

Pakistani poet and singer Adeeba Shahid Talukder wrote this poem as a second anniversary gift to her husband Willem, “who had held my hand through the deepest throes of mental illness, who had loved me so fiercely that I, at last, began to believe I deserved love.” Particularly this week, Suicide Prevention Week, Adeeba’s words about the critical importance of support and love resonate.

With new variants like delta, it’s hard to predict what the future holds. We are back to the familiar uncertainty and worries. To the extent possible, let’s take a note from Mary Oliver and “go easy.”

Chinese poet Li Po was born at the start of the eighth century. His poem, Looking at the Moon After Rain, expresses universal truths about the beauty of the natural world, regardless of the place and time one lives in. The start of the third line, "open the door," reads as an invitation to truly look at, and appreciate, all that the world offers.

Listening to one another’s stories, and those of our patients, is a mode of caring. Poet and editor Jacinta White captures this idea beautifully in her poem “Feast," and takes the concept a step further: after pain has been witnessed, it can more easily be put to rest. Toni Morrison writes about the same concept in the novel Beloved, when Baby Suggs tells Sethe (the main character): "Don't study war no more. Lay all that mess down. Sword and shield.

On July 2, 1776, the Continental Congress voted for independence, and two days later the Declaration of Independence was adopted. While this was the first step in liberating the fledgling United States, the Declaration did not apply to slaves, indentured servants, or women. Their exclusion had long-lasting effects on the country's literary and artistic landscape.

Paul Laurence Dunbar, born ninety-six years after the first Independence Day, was one of the first Black poets to gain publication of his work. His poem about resilience, “With the Lark,” was printed in 1922 by Dodd, Mead & Company.

Today we honor liberty and justice for all.

Emerging from the pandemic can feel strange. Life was interrupted; we've missed a year of celebrating milestones, cultivating relationships, and reaching for important goals. Derek Walcott’s "Love After Love" is about re-learning how to be oneself after heartbreak. A particularly apt poem for June 2021.

Today, Father's Day, let's celebrate the fathers, father figures, partners and men that we love. Poet ee cummings wrote "my father moved through dooms of love" as an elegy to his own father. Like most of his work, it's complicated, beautiful, and full of syntactical experiments. Regarding the title, most take it to mean that cummings' father experienced love and sorrow in equal measure.

On June 12, 2016 Lin Manuel Miranda accepted a Tony award with this sonnet, which he wrote after the shooting at Pulse, the Orlando night club. Anyone who has heard Miranda’s speech remembers the famous line: love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love. During gay pride month and always, we celebrate and stand with our LGBTQ friends, family, colleagues, and loved ones.

The conflict in the middle east has touched many of our lives. Whatever one’s perspective might be, poet Danez Smith’s words apply. Let ruin end here.

Happy Mother's Day to you and yours! Poet and writer Lupe Mendez wrote "La Suavecita" for his mother's 86th birthday. Of the poem, he says "I wanted to write about bright notions, on what is passed down between the generations, and in my house, it has always been el gusto de la musica"-- the love of music.

By the end of March 2020, COVID-19 had taken nearly 4000 American lives. One year later, over 500,000 are gone. As scientists, numbers are integral to our way of thinking and evaluating disease. But this number is difficult to accept. Edna St. Vincent Millay said it best here; I’ll use her poem to honor the family members, friends, patients, and loved ones we have lost.

Poets do occasionally write about sports (eg. Gail Mazur’s “Baseball,” Richard Katrovas’s “American Football"), but they don’t often recite their work standing in the stadium. Amanda Gorman did just that on Superbowl Sunday, speaking straight from the heart, thanking educators, innovators, and healthcare workers. Her words were powerful.