I first discovered Clifton’s poetry more than 20 years ago and treasured her work, reading every collection. But I had overlooked her two most recent books. After her death earlier this month, I decided to correct that.
Voices is Clifton’s final book. Throughout her life, she often gave voice to those who could not speak. Here, she continues to do so, albeit offering up some surprising choices. I don't recall her writing animal monologues before this. I was intrigued to read the prayers of dog, horse and raccoon, and I thought she captured perfectly the simmering anger voiced by Cream of Wheat of food product fame. Other voices include those of family and friends no longer living.
It is a gift, to throw their voices to us. The one that soared above the others and touched me most deeply, however, was Clifton’s own in the poem, "sorrows." In lines that recalled "the message from The Ones" in Mercy, she begins by comparing sorrows to angels:
who would believe them winged
who would believe they could be
beautiful . . .
Then she evokes an amazing image of them clicking/their bony fingers, before ending on a whisper:
. . . enough . . . not me again
but who can distinguish
one human voice
amid such choruses
of desire
It is an extraordinary poem that can be read in its entirety on the Poetry Foundation website.
Since Lucille Clifton’s death, much has been written about her. Elizabeth Alexander has a particularly touching tribute in the New Yorker.
If you have not read her work — or have not read it in awhile — I encourage you to do so. She will be missed, but her resilient and enduring voice can still be heard through her books, most of which are available through BOA Editors Ltd, her long-time publisher.
