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When I first came to Washington D.C., I was inspired by local D.C. writers, who were fully engaged in poetry-making—writing it or reading in libraries, homes, universities, or in public parks. I was enamored by those who turned language into something sacred-- a moment remembered, protest against social injustice, or witness to life as it is really lived. The strongest poems were honest; they felt like a kind of blessing, simultaneously conferring and receiving life’s precious gifts.
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I was not thinking of a book or of the biblical tale of Job when I wrote most of these poems. Indeed, I was teaching full time and grading papers. At day's end, I'd stop to watch the news about the nation and the world: natural disasters, warring nations and terrorism, shootings in schools, genocide, religious dissension--seemingly insoluable human conflicts--social, moral, and political. People of good will asked "why," but no simple answers were possible, and little unified peoples or provided a unifying vision for human society. |
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