When I arrived at Wabash in 1995, I first noticed two things:<\/p>\n
\u2022 the size of the religion department (Peebles, Williams, Placher, Webb\u2014one more than the theology department at my own alma mater, which had double the student population. And the Wabash department had\u00a0three times the majors!);<\/p>\n
\u2022 the College had a poet.<\/p>\n
A published, award-winning poet.<\/p>\n
There had been no poet at my alma mater when I was there.<\/p>\n
Which is sort of like having a biology department without a microscope, a chemistry department without a spectroscope, or our experimental physicist and Professor Jim Brown trying to track nuclei without access to the National Superconducting Cyclotron he and his students visit during the summer.<\/p>\n
Poetry is the pure research of language, words the particles of light we search for.<\/p>\n
So to have a poet at Wabash\u2014Donald Baker H\u201957 before my arrival, Marc Hudson during most of my time here, and now Derek Mong\u2014is essential for those of us who write, no matter what we\u2019re writing.<\/p>\n
We need someone\u00a0who honors meaning of language one word a time, it\u2019s rhythm one line at a time, the interplay of it all one stanza at a time. Someone caught up in the pursuit of the word.<\/p>\n
Whenever I\u2019m stuck and despairing of my own work, I go back to pen on paper and read a poet.\u00a0Seeing the power of paying attention to every single word\u2014it\u2019s nuance, sound, shape, and temperament\u2014reminds me that this is the way everything we write well is built, from the time we first pick up a pencil\u2014and it takes time, and all you are. Take a deep breath, remember, wonder, draw the letter, then the word, then the sentence, and see what you discover.<\/p>\n
That Marc Hudson was our poet when I arrived was providential. He was one of the first teachers I interviewed, and preparing for our conversation I read his book Journal for an Injured Son<\/em>. There a father\u2019s vulnerability merges with a power and grace of language only a poet at his best can conjure. Marc\u2019s words became my introduction to the compassion, depth of experience, and love to be found in this community.<\/p>\n So when we were looking for poetry for an in issue of Wabash Magazine<\/em> we call \u201cWalking Beside Each Other,\u201d Marc\u2019s most recent book, East of Sorrow,<\/em> was the first place I turned.<\/p>\n We chose two pieces.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t think any of us who knew Ian Hudson or who know his family can read the first piece, \u201cHelen\u2019s Tears,\u201d without shedding our own. The historical setting of the poem and its ecology make it even more relevant and poignant today. But read Marc\u2019s essay here at WM Online<\/em> and you also get a wonderful and concise description of Ian himself: \u201c\u2026a sort of soldier, clear-eyed, courageous, and with a great sense of humor that rescued him from self-pity.\u201d<\/p>\n The second piece ends this issue of the magazine because I think of it as a benediction. There are many hard years between the writing of these two pieces, and many pages. An entire separate epic poem, in fact. But in \u201cThere Is An Ancient Light\u201d I find a poet emerging from loss and grief with a new sense of wonder and what feels to me like a blessing. I find that a testament to many things\u2014first, the family around him. But also to the power the craft of poetry\u00a0has to help us heal and walk honestly, openly beside each other. Word by word, step by step.<\/p>\n