Hearing this poem at a reading, our friend, the exquisite soprano Dr. Carolyn Finley, said the poem really "spoke to her," and said she would gladly sing it if I set it to music for her. Though I had set other poets' work for choir or soloist, and had written songs for guitar as a young person (mostly with horrible, predictable lyrics), I had never tried to set a poem of my own. This poem had provided me with an avenue for grief at the death of my grandmother, and it was a poignant challenge to shift from spoken to sung word.
In a certain light
In a certain light if I stretch just right
my ribs crest again, thin cage from Adam
drawn right around my softened heart
cushioned now with the dough of years
Almond crisps, angel cookies
ginger snaps, one by one hugged my tongue
my waist, my hips, thighs, just as I would hug
my grandma as she baked and let me taste
Swelling in the heat they'd soon cool to comfort.
I remember my first swells and worries of new
contours, the first "No" to diet-banished sweets.
My grandma, terse, says, "If God wants you fat,
you'll be fat," impatience vying with love.
There's no fighting with God, the cook's
theology maintains, and there she must be right.
In her high heels and hats her round form was beauty
She danced us all off the floor at the legion hall,
polka, schottische; she danced the way she cooked
and it went on rising, rising. In the soft, chewy center
I always knew she'd love me, plump or thin, as I loved
all the pillowed laughter and fragrance
of her zest, wooden spoon heaped with yeast
and doughnuts frying in the crisp air
After her stroke, her mind at rest elsewhere
Her heart would not stop hugging life.
Her body thinned and sank beneath her ribs
as she slowly passed away. It is my waist now
that is comfort, my chest a warm pillow.
If I stretch just right I feel her round my heart.
--Karen Lynn Erickson
Originally published in Dwellings, 2013, and used by permission of Finishing Line Press.
In a Certain Light.mp3
Invitation for your writing:
The French Renaissance poet Pierre de Ronsard advised poets to read their verses aloud, and even better, to sing them out, to test their quality and power. Singers learn to project their sound by using the resonant cavities of mouth and sinuses, and by making the most efficient use of their breath. First read this poem silently, then read a stanza aloud. Read another stanza, but sing it out. What kind of melody are you creating as you read out the lines? Finally, listen to the recording by Dr. Finley and Dr. Turley (mp3 file) from their album, In a Certain Light: Mostly Minnesota Composers, produced with colleague Dr. Kent, and used by permission (available soon on Digital [email protected]/SJU). What do you hear in the poem when a team of professional musicians interpret the text in a musical setting created by the poet? Now choose one of your own poems or write a poem about an experience filled with strong emotion (grief, joy, fear...); read your poem silently, then aloud, then by projecting in a singing tone. Does the act of "voicing" give new insight into your poem and into your experience?