the Friend - Quaker thought in poetry

Quaker thought in poetry

Gerard Benson epxlains how Quaker beliefs challenge him in his work

I’m a Quaker and I’m a poet. Both of these aspects of who I am are full-time. They’re not always compatible. There are things I write that I wouldn’t submit to a Quaker publication. There are facets of my Quakerism that don’t go into my poetry. Like you, I’m complicated. But as a Quaker must, I seek for unity, even within myself. I hope one day to integrate the poet and the Quaker.

As a Quaker I learn from silence. At a gathered Quaker Meeting I am given glimpses of the numinous that rise from the silence. I am also given (silent) calls to action. I find myself asked to spend my life outside the Meeting, not in silent contemplation but action; action where I feel the Quaker values I try and live by (truth, simplicity, peace and equality) need attention.

As a poet I learn from language. I love words and the way they behave, the sounds they make, their rhythms, their histories, their meanings, the ambiguities they offer. I love figurative speech. I could go on but I’m pressed for space. I love using patterns of words to express the truths of my heart and mind. Which returns me to my Quaker identity.

I can be indignant about injustice, about inequality, about massive sums spent on idiocies such as Trident. But I rarely write poetry about these things.

I’ve worked as a poet with psychiatric patients. That sometimes brought the Quaker and the poet face to face.

I write for children as well as adults. Much of the poetry I write for the young is imbued with my Quakerism. But I don’t lecture, harass or bully. I offer pictures of events or states of being and trust readers to interpret as they will. Is A Small Star sci-fi or an ecological suggestion?

Gerard Benson was a founder of Poems on the Underground.

A Small Star
I live on a small star
Which it’s my job to look after;
It whirls through space
Wrapped in a cloak of water.

It is a wonderful star:
Wherever you look there’s life,
Though it’s held at either end
In a white fist of ice.

There are creatures that move
Through air, sea and earth,
And growing things everywhere
Make beauty from dirt.

Everything is alive!
Even the stones:
Dazzling crystals grow
Deep under the ground.

And all the things belong,
Each one to the other.
I live on a precious star
Which it’s my job to look after.

Gerard Benson