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Former Alcohol Addict, Iranian American poet, Pilgrim Bell: Poems by Kaveh Akbar, Poem “My Empire” by Kaveh Akbar, Writing about the divine in poetry

Photo Credit: Poet’s Website
My Poetry Corner October 2021 features the poem “My Empire” from the poetry collection Pilgrim Bell: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2021) by Iranian American poet Kaveh Akbar. Born in Tehran to an American mother and Iranian father, Kaveh was two years old when his family migrated to the United States, first settling in Pennsylvania. When Kaveh was five years old, they moved to the Midwest, living in Wisconsin and later Indiana. Since his parents only spoke English at home, the poet speaks little Farsi, his first language.
Akbar earned his MFA at Butler University in Indiana and a PhD in creative writing from Florida State University. He currently teaches at Purdue University (Indiana) and in the low-residency MFA programs at Randolph College (Virginia) and Warren Wilson College (North Carolina). Since September 2020, he also serves as the poetry editor of the progressive magazine, The Nation.
Pilgrim Bell is Akbar’s second poetry following his recovery from alcohol addiction. In “Seven Years Sober,” he writes: Trust God but tie your camel. Trust / God. The bottle by the bed the first / few weeks. Just in case. Trust…. He acknowledges in “Cotton Candy” that his mother wept nightly for eight years / my living / curled its hands around her throat / not choking exactly but like the squeeze / of an outgrown collar…
A quest for the divine in life’s joys and struggles lies at the core of Akbar’s collection. Six of the 35 poems share the book’s title, “Pilgrim Bell.” In his interview with Kate Tuttle for the Boston Globe, Akbar said that he was “really moved by the idea that the bell is a kind of devotional technology powered by the heft of a human body.” What is striking about these six poems is the poet’s use of the period at the end of each line, leaving me the reader off balanced and confused with a sense of stammering. In the second “Pilgrim Bell” poem, in which the poet explores his need for a savior to make himself whole, he writes:
My savior has powers and he needs. To be convinced to use them. Up until now he has been. A no-call no-show. Curious menace.
In his conversation with David Naimon for Tin House Magazine, Akbar explained the stuttering, stammering effect: “You’re never going to make a poem that equals God, you’re never going to make a poem that equals justice, land, grief, loneliness, or desire. To my mind, there has to be some acknowledgement of the gulf between what is said and what is meant. There has to be some fracture that indicates that the poem is gesturing towards something that it can’t actually reach.”
The fracture between the supplicant’s pleas for mercy and self-power for change is evident in “The Miracle” in which the poet speaks of the human desire for divine intervention when faced with a crisis. The miracle is to have [Archangel] Gabriel squeeze away…the emptiness in you, the vast cavities you have spent your life trying to fill—with fathers, mothers, lovers, language, drugs, money, art, praise—and imagine them gone. The poet concludes:
No. Gabriel won’t be coming for you. Too fear to move. You too pebble to stone. Too saddle to horse. Too crime to pay. Gabriel, no. Not anymore. You too gone to save. Too bloodless to martyr. Too diamond to charcoal. Too nation to earth. You brute, cruel pebble. Gabriel. God of man. No. Cheese on a cracker. Mercy. Mercy.
Echoing these admonitions of the conflicting state of the human soul, the featured poem, “My Empire,” speaks of the poet’s comfortable life while America’s enemies suffer from the empire’s wrath.
My empire made me happy because it was an empire and mine. I was too stupid to rage at anything. […] My empire made me happy so I loved, easily, its citizens—such loving a kind of birth, an introduction to pain. Whatever I learn makes me angry to have learned it. The new missiles can detect a fly’s heartbeat atop a pile of rubble from 6,000 miles away. That flies have hearts, 104 cells big, that beat. And because of this knowing: a pile of rubble. […] My empire made me happy because it was an empire, cruel, and the suffering wasn’t my own.
The poet asks in “The Palace,” the final poem in the collection, Who here [in the palace] could claim to be merely guilty? / The mere. // My life / growing monstrous / with ease.
To read the complete featured poem, “My Empire,” and learn more about the work of the Iranian American poet Kaveh Akbar, go to my Poetry Corner October 2021.
The Miracle. You can feel the pounding of the heart.
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How true!!! The pounding heartbeat becomes especially clear when reading the verse out loud. Thanks for sharing your observation 🙂
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Folks such as he almost make me feel like a total slacker: he writes; he teaches at three colleges; he is a magazine editor. I tip my hat!
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Neil, I share the same feeling 😀 Let’s not forget, though, that when we were his age, early thirties, we had energy galore to juggle several working projects.
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Wonderful use of language. One could write a good deal abou the idea of a “minor deity in the mirror.” HE (the one who lives in the reflection), after all, is the source of all of the beauty and suffering we can most readily influence. Thanks for the introduction to this poet, Rosaliene.
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Glad that you like Akbar’s work, Dr. Stein. His humility and openness in confronting his “minor deity in the mirror” comes through his collection.
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This one particularly hit me! I saved your post so I can find more of his work. It’s not often you find such poignant works by TCKs/CCKs (cross-cultural kids)
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TCK, I’m pleased that you’ve been touched by Akbar’s poetry 🙂 You can learn more about his three collections at his website http://kavehakbar.com.
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Thank you 😊!
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My pleasure, TCK 🙂
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Kudos to the poet! Beautiful!!!
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Thanks for reading, Carol! His poetry is highly praised in the academic literary world.
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It’s easy to see why – such a talented poet!
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Very evocative work. I want to read more of Kaveh Akbar’s poetry. Thanks Rosaliene!
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Henry, I’m so glad that you like Akbar’s poetry 🙂 You can learn more about his other two poetry collections at his website http://kavehakbar.com.
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For someone who has a Phd in Creative Writing, I salute him!
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It’s impressive, for sure. I also found his comments on the limitations of the English language of special interest.
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I’m thankful for the simple and beautiful technology of bells, the acknowledgement that we can’t be perfect, and that Kaveh Akbar is seven years sober. He still has much to say and teach, and his mother can rest easier.
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JoAnna, I love the way that you’ve zeroed in on Akbar’s journey. It must, indeed, be easier for his mother now that he’s sober. Thanks for sharing your thoughts 🙂
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❤️❤️❤️
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Laleh, thanks for dropping by ❤
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Always pleasure.🌷
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I guess living the trial, of every person split to a degree, by sharing the experience of a bicultural, or multicultural life, you can see so many things, that for the locals are not explicit.
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This has been my own experience, BurningHeart. Thanks for dropping by and sharing your thoughts. Hope you’re settling in well in your new home 🙂
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Well, thankfully its finally done.
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He said, “there has to be some acknowledgement of the gulf between what is said and what is meant.” He is describing the profound paradox of seeking truth while rooted in this imperfect world, with limitations both in our self-awareness (our ability and willingness to see), as well as our understanding of the limits of language. Thanks for introducing me to this poet, Rosaliene.
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My pleasure 🙂 Thanks for sharing this insight. This is, indeed, a challenge for our poets. Like works of art, a poem can be interpreted in different ways depending on the reader’s “ability and willingness to see.” It’s a challenge I also experience in my own work as a storyteller.
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“There has to be some fracture that indicates that the poem is gesturing towards something that it can’t actually reach.” That’s so interesting, Rosaliene. I suppose that’s true of all writing, that we’re pointing to small details and hoping the reader makes the leap to the whole story. Thanks for sharing this poet with me. Hugs. And Happy Holidays.
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My pleasure, Diana 🙂 Thanks for dropping by and sharing your thoughts. Hugs.
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