The Restorative Power of Poetry

Dear Fellow Illinoisians, 

The Holidays are upon us and America is in a mixed mood. Perhaps we find ourselves in a time as described by W.B. Yeats in 1919’s “Second Coming” “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,/Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?” Who knows. 

Some of us got more than we bargained for. Some of us got more than we hoped for. Some of us got nothing. More than ever we need poetry. Poetry has the power to heal and seal wounds. Poetry has power to speak in whispers that cross canyons of differences and touch hearts of the willing. Poetry does not have all the answers, but it turns us to the truth of our shared humanity. As Poet Laureate Gwendolyn Brooks said in “Infirm” “Everybody here/is infirm.” 

I had a cousin named Willie Mae whom I loved dearly. She was pretty like a Black Dolly Parton. She appeared in several of my poems because she made such an impression on me. I think you’ll recognize Mrs. Willie Mae Allen Kyles as someone you know in this must need be season of good will toward all. Now I’ll share a funny poem. 

The Resolution 

Willie was drinking Mist and mixing batter 

and mistook the Mist for milk. 

Didn’t intend to make so happy a cake 

but that was a pleasurable mistake 

of which we partook with sliding smiles. 

It was too late to turn back 

After one and one-half pounds of butter 

after a half-dozen eggs devoted to what 

was to come in coconut 

and chocolate pecan. 

This was our lesson for the New Year: 

Be devoted to delight, be bringer 

of good cheer, stir as right as you 

might, and turn away from no 

ingenious serendipity, discard no sleight 

of hand, and do the sweetest you can, 

Angela Jackson 

May the coming year find you healthy and happy.  

Angela Jackson 
Poet Laureate of Illinois