I confess, until I got this job with T.S. Poetry Press, my interest in poetry was, well, limited. Mostly to rhymes that I read with my kids.

But now that I’ve been plunged headlong into the poetry world, I’m starting to learn how to swim in these waters. One of the delights of this work—and this world—is the words.

I love words. So why have I not embraced poetry before?

Blame it on my high school teachers who forced me to analyze poetry I didn’t understand. I hate feeling like a phony and never did I feel quite so fake as when I was writing analytical essays about poems that mystified me.

Poetry shouldn’t be dissected. It should be savored. Somewhere along the way (probably in high school), I forgot that.

Enter Tania Runyan. When I read a beautiful essay she wrote for the T.S. Poetry blog, I knew she was a kindred spirit and I bought her most recent book of poetry, A Thousand Vessels, a book that reminded me how much I love words when they’re strung together like pearls, beautiful and luminous and perfectly shaped—in short, how much I love poetry.

After reading (and sometimes swooning over) the poems in this slender volume, I emailed Tania and asked her if she’d do a blog interview with me.

She emailed back that she had to check with her publicity people (these poets, they’re a popular bunch, what with all those interviews with Oprah and Kathie Lee, not to mention the Saturday Night Live guest spots and the movie cameos that every director in Hollywood is desperate to land them for). But whew! Her publicity people said yes. (Bless them!)

So now you can call me Oprah or Kathie Lee, because I’ve got Tania Runyan right here for an interview. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

*****

KCI: When did you start writing poetry?

TR: As a kid, I wrote stories and occasional poems. Then I dreamed of becoming a playwright or screenwriter. I won a playwriting competition in high school and got to see my play performed. Something similar happened in college. But I kept finding myself getting frustrated with characters and plot and wanted to stay caught up in the words themselves.

I spent hours and hours on poems, sometimes an entire free class period on just one line or phrase. I loved the obsessiveness of poetry, the self-contained worlds of poems. Teachers and professors encouraged me in that direction, so I ultimately applied for an MFA program in that genre and became a “professional poet.” (Ha!)

KCI: I’m curious about the book’s structure. Many of these poems were published in journals prior to appearing in the book. How did you arrive at the idea of grouping them around different Biblical women?

TR: I became intrigued by biblical women after composing a nativity “suite” for my family one Christmas. Each poem was written in the voice of a person present at the nativity. The poem “Mary at the Nativity” grew out of that Christmas project. Since I was a new mom at the time, Mary, of course, really resonated with me.

Then I started writing about Eve. Eventually, I came to the vision of the ten women represented in the book. Some of the poems were already written and just fit under a section on their own, but the majority of them were written with the intentional structure in mind while I was pregnant in 2005.

WordFarm liked the manuscript in 2008, but the book didn’t come out until 2011, so I had plenty of time to send out poems to journals during the wait!

KCI: Many of the poems are about or in the voice of different Biblical women, but some are not. Was it a struggle to know where to put the poems that aren’t specifically about those women, “My Daughter’s Hands,” for instance, or “The Bee Box” or “Sins of the Past”? How did you decide where they belonged?

TR: Many of the poems that aren’t in the women’s voices were intentionally written to connect with the themes. For example, in “My Daughter’s Hands,” when I become somewhat mystified by her asserting her own personhood and then imagine the negative consequences that will soon arrive as a result, I connect with Adam and Eve’s independent choices, how those were doomed to eventually lead to sin.

“Sins of the Past,” which sits in the Woman at the Well section, speaks to the hold our actions can have on us (in my case, making fun of a mentally challenged girl) until we intentionally set them aside like the woman at the well.

“The Bee Box,” of course, is about how some of us operate as if the world needs our busyness. That one definitely belonged with Martha!

KCI: I’d love to hear about the process behind a couple of the poems in this book. Would you tell us about the seed idea or image of one of your poems and how the poem took shape over the course of your writing/crafting/editing it?

TR: “Child Sex Offenders” grew out of looking on our county’s site at the pictures and addresses of sex offenders. We were planning on moving, and like many parents, I wanted to make sure we weren’t moving next door to someone dangerous. The photos are heartbreaking. Of course what these people are convicted of doing to children is beyond heartbreaking in any imaginable sense.

But I kept imagining these (mostly) men in their daily lives. How do they function, move on? Do they or can they? What happened in their childhoods? Do they have anything happy to remember?

This poem has always made me nervous because I fear someone will think I’m sympathizing with the offenders. My goal isn’t to excuse or sympathize but to make us think about the children we see and how we contribute to shaping the lives in front of them.

[Kimberlee's aside here: Tania is one of the gorgeous, generous women who are matching my donation to Love 146 and International Justice Mission, to aid their efforts to end child sex slavery and exploitation.]

KCI: One of the most arresting images in the book is the final one, of Mary Magdalene holding “the souls of the nations like a basket of figs.” Where did that image come from?

TR: I don’t remember how I came up with figs specifically, except that they are part of the agriculture of the middle east. (I do discuss figs in one of the Eve poems, I’m just now realizing.) I did want to paint a domestic, “down-to-earth” image to go with these women at the empty tomb—the women who really became the first witnesses and heralds to a change in the history of the world. They weren’t warriors or kings wielding weapons but “simple” women going about their lives. And when we go about our lives faithfully, in love, we too have the power to carry souls.

*****

On the cover of A Thousand Vessels, Jeanne Murray Walker writes, “I found myself turning the pages…as compulsively as if it were fiction.” I did, too, and then I went back and re-read it, slowly, so I could savor the beautiful words.

May I encourage you to do yourself a favor and buy a copy of Tania’s book?* If you do, you’ll thank me!

Let me close with the poem from which that image of the figs comes:

The Empty Tomb

—John 20

That woman was the first word spoken
must have taken even the angels by surprise,

who were used to bringing their fiery glory
down to the clanging swords of battlefields,

to priests tugging at their beards
in lamentation, to voices thundering in temples

and muscles hefting stones from mountaintops,
not to a trembling woman whose hair clung

to her neck with tears, who for a moment
held the souls of the nations like a basket of figs.

*For those of you who prefer not to shop at Amazon, you can order the book directly from the publisher.

The Leaf and the Tree

Today we look again at the dark reality of child sex slavery and exploitation in order to shine a light, to flood the dark corners of the world with light, so that no child will ever have to endure sexual oppression or abuse, will never again live in fear.

Diana lives in the Philippines. She endured abuse at her family’s hands, including sexual abuse that resulted in a pregnancy when she was 12. Her family forced her to get an abortion.

Diana hated her life, hated herself—she threw her little 12-year-old body into the path of a truck.

She lived.

She was rescued from her abusive home and brought to the Round Home, Love 146′s safe house.

Today’s found poem is from a video on the Love 146 website called “Diana’s Love Story”, in which she shares her story of healing and restoration.

The Leaf and the Tree

I used to be like this leaf.
When the storm comes,
the leaves of the tree
fall.

And sometimes I felt that I
was the tree
whose leaves all
fell.

Hopeless. I felt that my life
was hopeless.
I felt that ever since I was born
I have always
had problems, as if I was
conceived
in problems. And then
I felt like a leaf that was
withered. Lost.
Dead.
I felt dead.
I felt all alone.
I felt hopeless.

Now I am like a big
strong
tree.
It is so strong that whatever typhoon comes
it will not fall.
It will still be here.
Even though some of its branches are gone,
the tree will still sway happily
as if declaring
that she continues.

There may be many storms, but
the leaves continue to move
with meaning.
Like me
now.

If I did not come to the Round
Home I would still be hopeless. Like
death.
Giving up every time something bad happened.
But now
I’m different.
I’m like a strong tree that no one can fool with.
I cannot be downtrodden
and laughed at any more.

Here in my heart
is what the mommies in the home
have taught me. They are the people
who loved me
who valued me
at a time when I
thought I was alone.
It was here
that I felt love. It was here
that I became
strong.
It was here
that I learned

how to be
loved

and how to love
myself and other people
and God.

I
shall not
be moved.

This post is part of my Stop Slavery series, a fundraiser for International Justice Mission and Love 146: for every comment, ten lovely women and I will donate a total of $10.50 ($5.25 to Love 146′s aftercare programs for girls like Diana and Serey and Pross, who have been rescued from the sex trade and another $5.25 to IJM).

A Pillow for Irsy

“Does Irsy have a pillow, Mama?” Jack asks me. Irsy is the child we sponsor in Guatemala. “Because if she doesn’t, how is the tooth fairy going to leave her money in exchange for her baby teeth?”

It’s September, and we’ve had a rash of tooth losses, including Jane’s first two baby teeth falling out, before she’s even five, which is unheard of in our family. We’re late tooth-losers around here.

“Irsy is older than Jane,” Jack continues, “and she’s probably got loose teeth. Do you think she has a pillow?”

I don’t know. I have no idea if Irsy has access to such things as pillows. Her family is poor and rural, and if they have pillows, they’re not the kind of thing Jack has in mind.

“I think we should make her a pillow,” Jack tells me.

I explain that Compassion International won’t deliver a package to Irsy, only mail.

He thinks for a moment. “Then let’s just make the case, Mama. Jane and I will embroider it, and you can sew it.”

I try not to choke. I don’t sew. Instead I smile and say, “Sure.” I figure he’ll forget about this in a day or two and then I won’t have to deal with it.

He doesn’t. He writes Irsy a letter and asks her what she enjoys doing. “So we know what to put on the pillow, Mama.”

When he gets Irsy’s letter back, he says, “She likes riding her bike and playing with dolls. So I think we should put a picture of a bike and a doll on her pillow.”

“Okay,” I say, “but that’s only two things. You wanted to embroider four squares. What’s going to go on the other two?”

He and Jane flip through the embroidery-for-kids book I’ve checked out of the library. “I want to make this flower.” Jane points to a picture. It looks simple enough. I figure we can manage that flower.

Jack looks through the whole book. “I don’t know,” he says.

I turn to a page with pictures of embroidered monograms and names. “What if we just embroidered her name in the last square?”

Jack’s face lights up. “That’d be good!”

We go to the fabric store and he and Jane choose a bit of plain cream-colored fabric to embroider on and a pink fabric with small flowers that they want me to quilt around the edges.

Quilt? This project is getting out of hand.

But I want to encourage my children to be compassionate, to care about other people, and if that means quilting a pillow case for a little girl in Guatemala, well, I’ll figure it out. I buy the fabric.

At home, I trace Irsy’s name and a picture of a bicycle, a doll, and a flower onto small rectangles of the creamy cotton and help Jack and Jane embroider them.

Then the embroidered pieces sit in my bedroom for several months as I try not to think about having to quilt them. Every once in a while Jack says, “When are we going to finish Irsy’s pillow?”

Finally, when Irsy’s sixth birthday comes and goes and I have still done nothing about the pillow—”It was supposed to be a birthday present, Mama!” Jack scolds me—I email my friend Glyn who is an avid quilter and ask her if she’ll help us. She emails back and says she’d love to.

She comes over after lunch one afternoon and helps Jack and Jane quilt Irsy’s pillow together. What would have taken me weeks (what had already taken me months because of sheer procrastination) took Glyn two hours—and that was with Jack and Jane helping her sew.

The finished pillow is beautiful.

I hope Irsy is as happy in receiving it as my kids were in making it.

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