The Lives of the Heart: Poems

How silently the heart pivots on its hinge

I've been reading this book of poetry for 7 months. The poems are rich and satisfying, not to be gorged or gulped, feasts of new memories made of things we all have on hand.

The first poem, "The Lives of the Heart" stabbed me, blew my head off, made me joyful and sorrowful in quick, alternating successions. It made me want to give this book to everyone I know, even the ones who don't like poetry, to put it in their hands and say, "Here, you must read this. Your soul is in here."

There were other poems, too, that were also the sounds of silent pivots of the heart. And a few poems where all I could say was, "I don't understand." But I did understand. I understood the cadence, I understood the show more never-ending now, the way the heart opens and closes and opens again. I understood them in a way that is the truth and is strange in its plaintive, honest voice heard at a distance. It traverses the complete course of the body. At the end, I think I even grasped the Lion she often writes about, life's fear, that primitive fierce force which we all possess and also face.

Here she writes about a horse, as she often does.

"Not Moving Even One Step"

The rain falling too lightly to shape
an audible horse, an audible tree,
and, soaking, the old horse waits in his pasture.

He knows the field for exactly what it is:
his limitless mare, his beloved.
Even the mallards sleep in her red body maned
in thistles, hooved in the new green shallows of spring.

Slow rain streams from fetlocks, hips, the lowered head,
while she stands in the place beside him that no one sees.

The muzzles almost touch,
How silently the heart pivots on its hinge.

I want to read everything Hirshfield has ever put on paper.

My own humble tribute of thanks to her:
The reader is eating bread and butter
The bread, poetry in elastic chews,
The butter, salt of faith on top. show less

I discovered this poet in college during a Contemporary Poetry course, and immediately fell in love with the way she talked about love, loss, and the pain of trying to move slowing through grief. I was no stranger to grief myself; my best friend from high school had just passed away and so had my beloved grandmother, both from cancer. I found special comfort in the lines of "Da Capo" as the poet blended simple acts like cooking as ways to "begin again the story of your life"

I quite liked the (title) heart cycle, the deer, the fish, the mule, and a few scattered others - those with quietude or seeking now-ness, those meeting grief head-on. Others read more like standard love poems. Of course we can never like all of a poet's work just the same, and those will be someone else's favorites.

Loved this book so much. She set the bar high for me and I compare a lot of poetry I've read since to the feelings and imagery that reading this collection evoked in me.

The author writes beautifully about the heart as the centre of as well as a metaphor for everything else in life.

I love this book and am currently re-reading my autographed copy. These poems are gorgeous--I love Hirshfield's imaginings of heart. My favorite poem, which I have memorized and am currently reciting to myself, is Da Capo. "Begin again the story of your life." I need to hear these words over and over. Their cadence is comforting and strong.