Adrienne Rich and the power of poetry

April is National Poetry Month. But does poetry matter — or, more specifically, is it relevant to society?

The other day, I read an article on that question in The Atlantic that suggested that though poetry remains respected in contemporary culture, it is pigeonholed in an academic subculture.

While I think it’s worth asking whether poetry can reach outside that subculture and become more generally meaningful, studying the lives of great poets can also show the impact poetry can have.

The renowned poet and political activist Adrienne Rich — one of my favorite poets — died last week.

One reassuring thing about any great cultural figure dying is that we are compelled to go back and reexamine their art. So that’s what I did this past week: procrastinate by spending hours reading Rich’s poems.

She was a prolific and well-regarded writer and beyond that, powerfully political. In the obituaries I read this week, the first words that described her were “feminist” and “lesbian”: these were the parts of herself that she advocated in her poems.

She moved past contemporary expectations for female writers, and her language was an unswerving rebuttal to the popular idea that poetry cannot be both beautiful and political.

One of the most dangerous myths about poets is that they are merely cultural bystanders; existing to observe but not to participate.

Adrienne Rich observed the world, but it was through her craft that she participated.

She broke forcefully away from conventional notions of what poetry is supposed to encompass, filling her poems with raw precision about sexuality, gender, class and the environment.

Because of this, her poetry is still just as relevant and indelible today as it was 50 years ago.

I don’t mean to assert that poetry always need be explicitly subversive in order to be meaningful. There are many poets more subtle than Rich who tell similar stories.

But what Rich accomplished in her lifetime was a vulnerable exploration of the relationship between personal and political language.

She understood that poetry is not merely valuable because it is a collection of pretty words. It is valuable because it speaks to what people are experiencing and the questions they most want answered.

In other words, pretty language and social change are not mutually exclusive animals and they don’t need to be.

The overwhelming response to Rich’s death last week — the essays, the obituaries, the tweets — shows that people still believe poetry matters.

And I think it proves that when a poet comes along who gives a voice to controversial issues, poetry can change society in no small terms. Or, if we’re being technical, no small stanzas.

So, perhaps this combination of personal and political can respond to that perennial question about whether poetry matters. As long as there are cultural questions that need reckoning, poetry will matter.

Adrienne Rich showed that poetry can expand beyond cultures and subcultures. The personal and political can inform our understanding of art. And beyond that, they can empower.