Can the world be saved by poetry?

I admit that I was wary as I headed into the Poetry Foundation’s media breakfast this morning. Our recent political climate has driven me toward many things, ranging from despair-driven paralysis to a cautious hopefulness as I see people converging around principles of openness, generosity, and resistance. It hasn’t driven me toward poetry. I love poetry, but as we face the rapid institutionalization of xenophobic hatred, the idea of poetry has seemed to me too wispy and idealistic, not urgent or active enough.           

But at the breakfast this morning, poet and high school teacher Ruben Quesada read one of his unpublished poems, which was a stunning instance of protest. His poem wasn’t wispy. It was urgent, and it was active. Quesada, who recently organized Writers Resist in Chicago, writes: “our voice carries weight and resonance. Our voice can manifest change.” He’s talking about activists here, but he could also be speaking of artists. As I listened to Quesada recite his poem, I thought about how poetry can function as a form of protest.

I went back to my office and looked at a book that has been on my shelf, Philip Cushway and Michael Warr’s compilation Of Poetry and Protest: From Emmett Till to Trayvon Martin. The poems and essays in this anthology are written by 43 African American poets who are still living (or, in the case of two of the poets, were still living when the anthology was being compiled). These poets push against convention and deconstruct stereotypes to unravel the assumptions that have built a culture of violence against black men. Full-page candid photographs of the poets are juxtaposed with their words, alongside historic photos and artwork reflecting the history of black Americans’ struggles. The book is suffused with echoes of Gwendolyn Brooks. It’s a striking collection of beauty and protest.