The Wild Iris

In terms of who I am indebted to as a poet, Luise Gluck just recently made the list. Her book of poetry The Wild Iris is one of the most brilliant collections I have read in a long time. I will be honest, the fact that I am whole heartedly obsessed with gardening may play into it. It is a desire of mine to one day live on a self sustaining commune, family only please apply, and no secret that gardening appears in most of my poetry. After I read Wild Iris, I had one of those 'Why didn't I think of that!?" moments.

The poems are in the voice of different flowers through out the garden, Gluck gives the flowers human thoughts that are explored through the flowers different attributes. In the poem The Wild Iris, the iris is a flower which blooms a part of the year, once it dies it's bulb lies dormant till the next blooming season, " Then it was over: that which you fear, being/ a soul and unable/ to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth/ bending a little." This flower lays underground, dormant while listening to life happen above it, as it is 'buried alive.' As Rilke explores death through angels and humans mortality, Gluck explores death through the rebirth of a flower. I am indebted to Gluck for letting my garden have a voice in my poetry, it is a conversation that will have life in my work. "Time to rest now; you have had/ enough excitement for the time being", the voice of the flowers is that of a wise sage, teaching humanity to be present and teaching poets to give the small things life.