This morning’s paper brought good news. Minnesota has a new poet laureate. It seems the governor has taken a step toward lifting up before all of us someone who will be ‘an advocate, lover and promoter of Minnesota poets and poetry. Sandwiched between stories of the waves of vandalism and earthquake reports and tales of the troubled places around the world, was this announcement that my state, our state is taking a moment to step back, taking a deep breath and valuing the importance of minimal words. I felt hope rush all over me with this announcement.

Joyce Sutphen’s smiling face looked back at me from the front page. David O’Fallon of the Minnesota Humanities Center made this affirmation of her announcement: “We really need poetry at this time that is a little divisive and a little crazy.” Well said. Indeed, in the midst of a lack of civility that seems to grip all ages and stations of our common life, the gift of poetry can be a healing balm. I have not read Sutphen’s work but look forward to delving into the words that accompany such a lovely, welcoming face.

Many times over this summer I have found myself engaged in conversations that often begin something like this. “How did we get to this place?” or “What has happened to everyone? Why can’t we be nice to one another anymore?” It seems so many of the words, on television, in print, on the airwaves and online, have become so filled with meanness that it is easy to feel as if we need to be on our guard at all times lest we get punched by ugly, hurtful words. And as the political season begins to ramp up for the 2012 elections, I shudder to think how it can get any worse. The lack of civility seems to be a run-away train.

So the presence of a poet laureate among us seems such a civilized and promising thing. With Sutphen’s influence, perhaps each of us might greet the morning with a little e.e. cummings on our lips: ‘i thank you god for most this amazing day’. Or when the news of the day threatens to overcome us, we might turn to the person near by and offer a line of Wallace Stevens:’ Light the first light of evening, as in a room/In which we rest and, for small reason, think/ The world imagined is the ultimate good.’

On days when we are too tired or too angry or cannot muster the enthusiasm for work or the news of the day or the person who makes us crazy or much of anything, perhaps the wisdom of Jane Kenyon will come to us: ” I got out of bed on two strong legs./It might have been otherwise./I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise./ I took the dog uphill to the birch wood./ All morning I did the work I love./……..But one day, I know, it will be otherwise.”

And who can shy away from the challenge of poet Mary Oliver’s ultimate and challenging question: ” Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” These words of poetry float through my mind at the most mundane and powerful moments. It is the question with which each of us must grapple, all held in the final line of an exquisite poem.

Perhaps the fact that Minnesota has a new poet laureate won’t change much of anything. We will still get up, if we are lucky, and put our feet firmly on the ground and head into whatever our lives offer us. The news will continue to trouble and confound. Politicians will begin to ramp up hateful words to fling at one another and our ears and hearts will get caught in the crossfire. The economy will, no doubt, ride the roller coaster it has created for itself.

But if words are as important as we know they are, we might take up Mary Oliver’s challenging question by reading more poetry. By allowing those well chosen words to soften our hearts and our interactions with one another. We might gently lay a poem on the desk of a co-worker or on the pillow of a child. We might even begin to commit to memory a line of this poem or that one, so we can offer it at just the right moment, to create a crack in this culture of incivility.

We can do all this as welcome to our new poet laureate. And as a way to soften the edges of what seems like an ever-hardening world.