Thursday, May 16, 2019

Review of Sophia's Lost and Found: Poems of Above and Below


Sophia’s Lost and Found: Poems of Above and Below  by Barbara Spring

A picture is worth a thousand words, but in well under a thousand words Barbara Spring creates pictures of her world for us to see. Through her eyes I see the Michigan shore, the spirituality of those that were here before us, her own deep faith and her family. It could be a recipe for sickly sweet verse, but it isn’t.

Description is Spring’s strength, she brings words together easily to help us to see, to hear and to experience her world:

The belugas will sing to you
songs of Artic ice that cracks like a gun
songs of longing, songs of salt, of swarming krill

from Calling the Whales or this from the opening lines of How to Crack Black Walnuts:

When autumn startled quail at us
and foxtail tickled the air,
we went to the meadow with baskets.

We understand, she has conveyed the experience; we stand in her shoes.

Description without meaning and depth might satisfy for a short while, but we need more than that to satisfy us and the poems here all provoke reflection: on the natural world and our place in it and on questions of faith. Spring sparks thought but never is didactic. We must find our own solutions.

These poems are accessible and readable and yet tingle with mystery without resorting to the hideaway of complexity with which so many poets cover their work. Even deep mysteries of spirituality are not obscured by clouds of convolution. Barbara treats the depth with reverence and we may again stand in her shoes as she articulates the wisdom of Sophia.

So many poor poems have been written to honor families and friends that I cannot begin to count them. Even the best of poets would do well to pass on the inclusion of testaments to their children and grandchildren as rarely can the poet see such poems in their true light. Somehow Spring has managed to avoid the trap and included work that is worthy of this collection. Don’t take my word for it; from Sierra’s Freckles:

Sierra hears singing in the night:
horned owls in the woods and
choruses of toads and crickets in the garden.
Their songs poke holes in the dark:

Here is a poem for any child.


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