Interview: Eugenia Leigh

Eugenia Leigh's poem "Selah" appears in the August issue. She is a Korean American poet born in Chicago. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College, and received the Poets & Writers Magazine's 2010 Amy Award. Her poems have appeared in Best New Poets 2010, Kartika Review, The Los Angeles Review, and Relief Journal, among other publications

Can you talk about the inspiration for "Selah"? What was on your mind while you were writing this poem?

The poem started out as a pep talk—partly to myself, partly to the world. A “cheer up, it’s going to be okay” poem. Its first drafts were filled with definitive statements and commands: this is what will happen, God will do this, I must do this, you should do that. But I started to realize with each revision that the definitive statements were actually questions. It wasn’t “this is how we’ll survive.” It was “how will we survive?”

I realized I don’t know what happens next. To any of us. I don’t mean in a death-and-afterlife sense. I mean in an everyday sense. When our world falls apart because of a layoff or cancer or war, how do we survive? What do we do when our safety nets come undone? At first, I was force-feeding myself answers. But the poem turned out to be a giant question. Maybe a prayer.

Parts like “That to worship is to survive” and “May he unplug our churches—/fling every cracked bulb/back into the sky” have me convinced this poem is only the start of the speaker’s excellent thoughts on religion, as if each line, each stanza, are just a quiver of the worry, the wonder, the reasoning. Where do you see this poem settling in terms of writing about religion, specifically in regards to grand moments like “when the sky unhinges?”

Marie Howe once told me to read Stephen Mitchell’s translation of the Biblical story of Job, a man who loses everything because of God, but then encounters God (who appears as a voice from a whirlwind), then regains everything he lost times two. In Mitchell’s introduction, he says that Job’s main question—“Why me?”—is that of someone who has only heard of God and has not yet interfaced with him. 

I’ve had bad collisions with the Christian church and with abusive church leaders (which may explain “unplug our churches” and “cracked bulbs”), and I know others who’ve been hurt more severely. But I’ve learned that it’s easy—and harmful—to get stuck in your own anger. If you’re like me, you can fixate on abusive pasts or corrupt governments or famines in Somalia and ask why until you explode. But when I zoom out a little, I can see that shit happens to all of us. Nobody is immune to the “sky unhinging.” Every person muscles through his or her share of pain.

In response to Job’s “Why me” question, Stephen Mitchell writes, “There is no answer, because it is the wrong question.” The wrong question! But Mitchell never tells us what the right question is. I’d like to imagine that the speaker of this poem is more evolved than I am. Instead of asking why, she asks new questions: “How will we survive?” and “Who will help us?” She sounds like she’s asking everyone, but you get the sense that she’s asking God.

A poet sometimes acts as an intercessor, which is a go-between. A bridge between people and God. I have a habit of believing that God is more accessible than most of us understand. We can say bold, abrasive things to him and he won’t flinch. I also think he’s more all-encompassing and all-loving than we give him credit for. The speaker knows this. She knows how small and cold we’ve made God. So she’s willing to go out on a limb and say, I think love is the answer, and God, I think you also need some lovin’ and perhaps you could accept our love as our first attempts at worship. There’s a Bible verse that goes, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” Imagine if everyone quoted that one.

I’ll admit it, I had to look up “Selah.” Apparently, it’s a difficult-to-translate Hebrew term, but often thought to be the approach to reading the scripture that followers to stop and listen. What’s your understanding of the title word and how do you see it informing the piece?

“Selah” appears sporadically in the Biblical Psalms as a musical-liturgical notation. I love the psalms because the speaker of those poems is so reverent, but also honest about his humanity. As often as he praises God, he angrily asks God to go away and leave him alone. You’re right in saying that “selah” is difficult to translate. My favorite definition is, “Let those with eyes, see; let those with ears, hear.” It also means, “Lift up!” In the final drafts of this poem, the only command I could give myself was “selah.” Pay attention. Listen. And lift up.

On your website, you provide a bunch of quotes under the headings “ethos” and “ars poetica.” You seem to have an optimistic and proactive way of thinking in terms of how the mind and writing can work. I know it’s hard to do in a short interview answer, but I’m wondering about your aesthetic in your own terms: how would you describe your understanding and philosophy of the power of words and ideas?

Words are unimaginably powerful. The creation myths are incredible because they surmise that God could create an entire universe by speaking it into being. The implications of that possibility are enormous—especially for writers! Our words can create whole worlds. They transport people. They help people escape. They help people go back home. They can also destroy. That’s why some of the boldest writers are arrested or muted. All of us subconsciously understand the power of words. We just don’t harness that good power often enough.

What other writing projects are you currently working on?

In addition to sending out my first poetry manuscript to publishers, I’m working on a project called “Together We Are New York” with several poets who are Kundiman fellows. It’s part oral history, part creative—a poetry performance commemoration of Asian American experiences related to the 9/11 tragedy, as the tenth anniversary comes up. Our first performance is on September 13^th in New York City. For more info, visit http://www.kundiman.org/kavad/

What great books have you read recently? Are there any upcoming releases you're excited about?

I just read Rookery by Traci Brimhall. Brave, gutting poetry. And I can’t wait for The Collagist poetry editor Matthew Olzmann’s new book, due in 2013. His poems blow me away every time. I’ll also plug my favorite book and permanent obsession—an experimental literary novel called The People of Paper, by Salvador Plascencia. That’s the book that convinced me to be a writer. 

Eugenia Leigh's poem "Selah" appears in the August issue. She is a Korean American poet born in Chicago. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College, and received the Poets & Writers Magazine's 2010 Amy Award. Her poems have appeared in Best New Poets 2010, Kartika Review, The Los Angeles Review, and Relief Journal, among other publications

Can you talk about the inspiration for "Selah"? What was on your mind while you were writing this poem?

The poem started out as a pep talk—partly to myself, partly to the world. A “cheer up, it’s going to be okay” poem. Its first drafts were filled with definitive statements and commands: this is what will happen, God will do this, I must do this, you should do that. But I started to realize with each revision that the definitive statements were actually questions. It wasn’t “this is how we’ll survive.” It was “how will we survive?”