And it is now my pleasure to welcome
one national treasure, Richard Shelton, who
will introduce another.
[APPLAUSE]
Can you all hear me?
OK.
There are so many stories I would
like to tell about Lucille Clifton,
and you would enjoy them.
And she would even forgive me, probably,
because she's a forgiving woman.
But I won't, because you want to hear her.
And you need to hear her.
And I need to hear her too.
There are some kinds of poetry that are needed.
We needed to get out of bed in the morning.
We needed to put one foot in front of another when
things are going bad and wrong.
And that's the kind of poetry she writes.
And that is because she is wise and beautiful,
and her steel has been forged in a fire of experience
harder than most of us will ever know.
She is no ordinary woman, as she calls herself
in one of her books.
She is an amazingly, extraordinary, powerful woman.
She can turn the simplest of language
into a religious ritual, incantation,
and even witchcraft-- all at the same time.
She can be profound and hide her profundity beneath a zaniness
and humor we can't resist.
There is no gap, no space, between her poetry
and her life.
The two are seamless.
If I had to find one concept to sum up her power--
and I know this is a dangerous thing to try to do--
I would say her's is the poetry of triumph.
Having overcome more suffering than it would seem possible,
she emerges as a poet of triumph.
Let us welcome three or four of the best living American poets,
Ms. Lucille Clifton.
[APPLAUSE]