A tolerance for poetry

Sounds pathetic doesn't it. I mean, people LOVE poetry, right. But somehow, in all my years of education, no one ever really taught me about poetry in a way that I GOT it or fell in love with it or even learned enough to talk about it intelligently. But I am gradually trying to build up my tolerance for poetry. So last night I read a whole book of poetry by Jane Hirshfield, After, and enjoyed these fleeting little moments of awe at a turn of phrase or a tweak of recognized emotion. My beloved sister-in-law has tried giving me poets to read, like Mary Oliver. And my friend Sara, herself a poet, keeps nudging me along with suggestions. It still feels a little like spinach when I was a kid--good for me but not something I'd necessarily seek out if I was hungry. Of course as an adult I have discovered fresh spinach--in salads and soups and stir-fry--so I should be able to alter my perceptions about poetry, too, I tell myself. I was inspired by the author of a book I recently reviewed, Nancie Atwell. She's written a whole book about getting middle schoolers hooked on reading--through poetry. It's called, Naming the World: A Year of Poems and Lessons (2006) and she convinced me more than I was already that poetry can be really important for kids as well as adults. And then I just collaborated on a review of 5 multicultural poetry books for young people, soon to appear in the Journal of Poetry Therapy, and I've been doing all this reading about multicultural children's lit which talks often about poetry. It is all moving me along...you know how it goes when things just start to converge because you picked up that snowball and sent it down the hill.