“This is what a sacramental poetry sounds like,” says fellow poet Paul Mariani of Luci Shaw’s new collection, What the Light Was Like. Shaw holds up both world and words to the light, revealing to us what has been there all along and teaching us how to see it for ourselves—with honesty, precision and patience.
Only 3 of the 50-ish poems inspired me to write. From purely a reader's opinion, although the poems showed solid craft, I did not personally enjoy them.
This was another lovely poetry collection by Luci Shaw. I am enchanted by her style and keen observations. Her poetry hinges on the details that catch her eye or heart (or both) - from the color of a petal to the shaft of moonlight twinkling down through a skylight to the hospitality of a daughter-in-law. I particularly liked the poem "Wrong Turn" near the end of the book. I am trying out some other poets, but so far I haven't found the right tone to compete with daily Luci Shaw poems.
When I reached the section in this volume called "Downside", the poems started to penetrate my armor one after the other. I think the poems about her family members such as her daughter and her mother especially affect me. The poems I have in mind are "The Redress", maybe about her daughter, "How to Raise Flawless Flowers" about her mother, and "If I'm Lucky" about her daughter. Once these penetrated I was buoyed by my own internal admiration for the author's work. Before I think I was living off my admiration for my aunt who liked this poet, though I have read other volumes by her and appreciated them so I don't think that is an adequate description of the variegations by which one attaches. But there was that element and then through experience for myself, my own appreciation. She is a skilled poet and as a Christian she deftly weaves in themes of sin, grace and redemption. Her nature poetry I could see was full of nuance but I didn't resonate as much to it. It is a good reminder at least of how removed I am from the natural world, a reminder to go partake.
I’ve been parched for poetry for quite some time now, and this was a refreshment. As foretold by Kestrel, some of the poems were a bit too on the nose for my liking — but when Shaw channels the implicit, her words sing.
Favorites: The Simple Dark, The Blue Eyeball, Rounding, What James Didn’t Say About the Tongue, Revival, God Speaks In Blue, The Grit on the Track, Without Words, and Peterson’s Privy.
“Look, I can’t find the words for it. All I have is this golden fullness rising in my chest, flooding my throat like a pool of honey.” Shaw is an award-winning poet, and in this small volume paints luminous landscapes with words. She is hovering over the wonder of common grace that we all can experience every day if we open our eyes.
Over the past few weeks, I've read a few poems from this book in bed before I turned off my lamp. Having Luci Shaw's poetry sing me to sleep each night was a lovely experience.