Poetic Medicine Poetry Partner, Unlocked Poetry

The poem below by Mr. Brett Phillips is extraordinary in so many ways and for so many reasons. I do not want to talk about its formal qualities, the poetic techniques, the diction and vocabulary, or the imagery, all of which are astonishing. Neither do I want to analyze or interpret this poem, at least not in the usual literary sense. Mostly I want to provide a little context, and celebrate his exemplary accomplishments both in the poem and in his life.

 

	Wayne Gilbert

Furthermore, I want to indicate that, while this poem is indeed exceptional, it is also typical of the poems I've seen from poet-offenders over the past year during my monthly "Unlocked Poetry" sessions at the Sterling Correctional Facility. Mr. Phillips' technical skills may be superior to many or most, but the discovery and creation of transformative meaning is not unusual at all.

 

Mr. Phillips is a big, strong man, though not oversized, with a long goatee. He is fierce about practicing and expressing his own voice and forms. He's not new to writing, but he hasn't shared his work much outside a small group of poet-offenders who swap and comment on each other's poems. This prison literary group discusses poetic theory, which arises from their own creative and poetic purposes and needs, their own aspirations and inspirations. They do not "study" like academics; they struggle and learn as actual, real-life practicing poets. Of course, they discuss poets they've read in books found in the library or those that friends have sent to them. They are a tight and supportive group, but not closed. They make me think of the Bloomsbury Group, or the ex-pats at Shakespeare and Company in Paris, or the beats in New York City-with a twist, of course-they're in a Level-5 prison.

 

Inside Sterling Correctional Facility

Mr. Phillips first read aloud from his work in an "Unlocked Poetry" session, and later, although nervous or shy or just reticent for his own reasons, gave an amazing performance of his work at our January Poetry Reading in the prison library (attended by 33 offenders and 7 prison staff).

 

I cannot explain the sources of this poem. I've taught writing for 36 years, and have rarely seen such a complex, moving, brilliant and beautiful piece. Mr. Phillips has talent, no doubt. And he works hard at his art and his craft. Still, I've seen plenty of talented people who work hard, and do not produce such incredible work. For explanation, I simply must resort to proclaiming and celebrating the magical, mysterious, medicinal powers of creativity, especially of making poems. And the openness of the heart that makes them!

 

"A Stranger" is a story of an inward redemptive heroic journey. Most of the poet-offenders I've met have chosen to take responsibility for their pasts, but refuse to be defined by them. They are ferociously determined to make better human beings of themselves. Each has experienced a self-induced, self-inflicted, even self-willed trial by the fire of their offenses. Now they are using the power of that same fire as fuel for transformation. The fire burns away the noise of bitterness and regret, so each can finally hear that "still, small voice" within-then freely weep-and finally hope! Traditionally, this is the sacred spiritual path to enlightenment of the monk or holy man.

 

When people hear about the "Unlocked Poetry" project, they often comment on my generosity and compassion taking on such work. I don't see it that way at all. I gain far more than I give. These poet-offenders are among the most resilient and irrepressible men I have ever met. As a man dealing with my own issues related to Parkinson's Disease and aging, I am filled with respect for them. I am challenged to take my own life struggles to new depths of transformation, and inspired to hear the voice of my own heart's deepest affections. Their furious grace accompanies me on my own journey now, and, for that, I am most grateful!

 

Here's the poem: