Today is #WorldMentalHealthDay, and I thought I will share a poem that I have threatened to share with you many times before. Raju Tai’s guest post talked about poems “that can be used in therapy, as therapy. Poems that can be prayed with, or surrendered to”. She went on to describe poems that are rooted in the everyday, in the magic of ordinary things. Tai has unravelled two differentand highly popular contemporary cross-sections of poetry. Her typology is very helpful for careful readers, and even those who come to poetry to be refreshed, and to find comfort.
I bring up her classification, because today’s poem is somewhere in between. It actually brings the two worlds together - seeing the comfort of therapy in the everyday. In its conception it places itself purely in the first category, however, rounding up its neat list of ‘comforting things’ with a gentle message, a reassurance. I read this poem many times during the pandemic, and I think Naomi Shihab Nye curated it in the New York Times, when we were all apart, alone and isolated. We had just about begun to find a vocabulary for what we were feeling, and Laméris’s poem helped us with our feeble attempts.
The poem ‘went viral’ in a sense, and chances are - you have already read it. But i never tire from going back to this poem. It is something like a prompt, reminding me of all its cousins and uncles and aunts, the ones that crowd around you on a bad day reminding you like Danusha Laméris - “Don’t Die”.
I had previously mentioned that I was part of a short poetry programme that was anchored by Danusha Laméris (and James Crews). This post is my thank you for the ‘small kindness’ that was this beautiful set of webinars. It was such a joy to hear from different poets, and go deep into their words and worlds. Thankyou.
Subscribe to the Poetly Newsletter to have the ‘small kindness’ that is poetry in your inbox :)