National Poetry Month April 10, 2020
Laura Grace Weldon
What's incomplete in me seeks refuge
in blackberry bramble and beech trees,
where creatures live without dogma
and water moves in patterns
more ancient than philosophy.
I stand still, child eavesdropping on her elders.
I don't speak the language
but my body translates best it can,
wakening skin and gut, summoning
the long kinship we share with everything.
from Blackbird (Grayson Books, 2019)
1. What inspired you to write this poem?
This simple piece is a glimpse of my search for spiritual meaning that started in childhood. Tucked between the words are my forays into faith practices as well as the sciences, always bringing me back to the oneness I feel when immersed in nature.
2. What do you like about this poem?
This is a plain-spoken work, something I strive for in my pieces.
3. What would you change about this poem?
I should have given more careful consideration to the line breaks.
4. Where, when, and how often do you write?
I work as an editor of nonfiction books, so my daily writing tends to be dry. I call poetry my “sideways procrastination.” I write poetry to let my mind escape, sometimes once week or so, sometimes every day.
5. What poetry books are you reading right now?
I’m always dipping in and out of gorgeous stacks of poetry. Right now those include Erin Slaughter’s I Will Tell This Story to the Sun Until You Remember That You Are the Sun, The Art of Losing edited by Kevin Young, David Romtvedt’s Some Church, and Ada Limón’s Bright Dead Things.