Never having been one to appreciate poetry (see: I don’t get it), imagine the surprise to be moved by one today on NPR. During an interview about her recently published work, Life on Mars, Tracy K. Smith recited, It & Co.
We are a part of It. Not guests. Is It us, or what contains us? How can It be anything but an idea, Something teetering on the spine Of the number i? It is elegant But coy. It avoids the blunt ends Of our fingers as we point. We Have gone looking for It everywhere: In Bibles and bandwidth, blooming Like a wound from the ocean floor. Still, It resists the matter of false vs. real. Unconvinced by our zeal, It is un- Appeasable. It is like some novels: Vast and unreadable.She emphasized every ‘It’ as she read and I knew exactly of what she was speaking. It. I have been in search of It for a long time. I immediately found her poem and emailed it to myself, not wanting to forget this moment. The first time in memory I enjoyed a poem that wasn’t written for a fourth grader (thank you Shel Silverstein), but a piece that resonated deeply about something I’ve yet been able to verbalize.
Perhaps the NY Times‘ Joel Brouwer explained it best. “Smith’s enigmatic “it” is in fact her way of teasing us for our insatiable itch for explanations…Religion, science, art: we turn to them for answers, but the questions persist, especially in times of grief.”
Life on Mars was a work Ms. Smith wrote after the loss of her father. No wonder it resonated.
Beauty is rarely found in ambiguity. It was a pleasure to find it here.
reducerenewrecycle 