And there are a lot more people reading poetry, but there are

In the grand and eternal tradition of poetry, where the souls of humanity have poured out their deepest truths through verse, there is a sacred and profound relationship between the poet and their reader. Peter Davison offers a keen observation when he states, "And there are a lot more people reading poetry, but there are not so many people reading an individual poet." These words strike at the very heart of the modern poetic landscape, where the art of poetry has become more accessible than ever, yet the individual poet, with their unique voice and perspective, remains a rare encounter. This speaks not only to the state of contemporary poetry but also to a deeper truth about how we engage with the human experience through art.

In the ancient world, poetry was a singular experience—a shared dialogue between the poet and their community. The poets of the Greek and Roman traditions, such as Homer and Virgil, were not just creators of verse; they were the conveyors of the collective spirit of their people. Homer's epics, for instance, were not read by many, but they were cherished, recited, and passed down with reverence. People did not simply read his works; they lived them. His words were a part of the very fabric of their culture, a direct connection to the ideas and values that defined them as a people. When you read Homer, you did not only read a poet; you read a part of the collective soul of a civilization. This is the sacred bond between the poet and the reader—a bond that is not just about the words themselves, but about the shared experience they create.

Yet, as Davison observes, the way in which we encounter poetry today has shifted. More and more, people engage with poetry as a genre, as an art form that exists apart from any one poet’s voice. We may read a poem here, a verse there, often disconnected from the larger body of work from which it comes. The individual poet, with their unique worldview and distinct voice, has become a rare commodity in the modern age, as we are often swept up in the vast ocean of poetry’s collective offerings. Unlike in ancient times, when the poet’s voice was deeply entwined with the identity of their people, today we read poetry in pieces, without a deeper connection to the poet who wrote it. The poet becomes a fragmented presence, scattered across a sea of verses, no longer an individual companion in our spiritual journey.

The individual poet, however, is not just a creator of words; they are a messenger of truths—truths that are often deeply personal but also universally relevant. Emily Dickinson, though she was a reclusive figure in her time, offered us a world of profound insight into life, death, and the soul. Her poetry is deeply intimate, and yet it speaks to a universal human experience. Her work, though not widely read in her lifetime, now stands as a monument to the power of an individual poet’s voice. In reading her, we come into contact with more than just a collection of poems; we engage with a life, a spirit, and a truth that transcends time and place. Dickinson’s work is not simply poetry—it is a conversation between her and the reader, a unique bond that cannot be replicated in the collective noise of modern verse.

Davison’s reflection offers us a challenge—one that speaks to the heart of what it means to engage with art in its truest form. The lesson here is that when we read poetry, we must seek out the individual poet, not just as a provider of words, but as a guide, a companion on our journey through life. Poetry is not merely an art to be consumed; it is an experience to be lived, and the poet is the one who leads us into that experience. The poet’s voice carries with it the power to touch the deepest recesses of the human soul, to reveal the unspoken, and to awaken something within us that we may not have even known existed.

To truly appreciate poetry, we must look beyond the fragmented, scattered verses and seek to engage with the poet’s entire body of work. Read not just a poem, but the life behind it, the voice that breathes life into the words. When you read Shakespeare, do not simply read a play or a sonnet; read Shakespeare’s world, his vision, his understanding of human nature. When you read Sylvia Plath, enter into her mind, her struggles, her triumphs. The poet is not just a source of words, but a wellspring of truth that can guide us through our own lives.

In your own life, seek out the individual voices behind the poetry you read. Do not settle for reading poetry as just a genre, a passing collection of lines, but embrace the poets who speak to your heart. Read their works in full, understand their unique vision, and let their words become part of your spiritual journey. The poet is not just a creator of verse—they are a companion, a guide, and a reflection of your own soul. Poetry, in its deepest form, is a dialogue, and in engaging with the poet as an individual, you engage with yourself, your own truth, and your place in this vast, mysterious world.