If you are aware of the tension between what is and what could be, the contrast between the real and the ideal, the distance between earth and heaven, the poems in Here, on the Ground will resonate with you. This collection of 58 poems is award-winning poet Marianne Jones' second (her first book Highway 17 was published in 1997).
Through her poems Jones addresses a variety of subjects: relationships, women's issues, the allure of a simple life, personal pain and growth, Bible characters, writing, and what it feels like to live through a Canadian winter. I thoroughly enjoyed the variety. But no matter what the subject, Jones always manages to twist the knife of new awareness in some way.
Sometimes she does it through allusion. That is the effect of the word "alabaster" in these opening lines of "The Jar" that takes us back to the story of the woman who broke her jar of perfume to anoint Jesus:
"You split my heart open
that was calm and contained as alabaster..." — "The Jar" p. 32.
Sometimes she does it with images, as in this poem that speaks of leaving a toxic relationship:
"You were always uneasy about having me around anyway
like an old grenade in your house." — "grenade" p. 33.
At other times her intertwining of old and new captures our attention. A poem that's titled "sleep disorder" speaks of modern Christianity's lethargy in language that reminds us of the sleepy disciples in Gethsemane:
"We mean well;
it's our eyes that are heavy..." — "sleep disorder" p. 41.
At still others she uses extended metaphor with a telling and humorous effect, as in the poem titled "Canadian Tire":
"At the temple of function over form
navy clad worshippers in sober boots and parkas
file through sliding jaws
of Entrance and Exit, leaving offerings..." — "Canadian Tire" p. 63.
Article comments