‘Homebound’: A Poem on Delivering Communion by Jeffrey Essmann

Wow. This really, really rocks. What you do with the word “homebound” is so solid. I loved the way “homebound” is introduced with reference to being trapped at home, but by the end refers to being bound for (our heavenly) home. That was very, very sweet. The solid meter, clever rhymes both smooth and extraordinarily regular, yet conversational and varied in pace, tone and delivery was a real treat. “Suffering” requiring the “ing” to be promoted, came across to me as the painful pause of someone momentarily overwhelmed at a juncture they did not expect. The wordplay with H/hosts, the balm of Gilead, and the unerring instinct of when to transition from specific detail to an open and un-defined, “something quiet and profound”… excellent.

“Homebound” is so infused with many meanings, a perfect entendre that simply sears our souls. As we grow older, we shall all commence to “Our tiny liturgy beside our beds.” Both realistic and impactful as we encounter age-related problems. Those of us who are Christians indeed keep our cross inside our coat.

A profoundly devout poem, and Daniel is right about the double meaning of the word “Homebound.” As society ages, more and more persons are receiving the Sacred Host at home, which is brought to them by family members or friends. There are no officially required words to be said for this event, so the choice of prayer or reading is left to those involved.

I really enjoyed this one. The phrase “leaving little residue” struck me. The world is very effective at removing the residue of anything that is not of the world. This is a great reminder that it needs to constantly be reapplied.

Geeking out:

First, poetic effects fall somewhere on the continuum of deliberate and fortuitous, of conscious and uncounscious. Most fortuitous effects are noticed and retained *deliberately* though, in composition, some unconsciously so. Fortuitous is as Jefferson on luck, though: “It’s funny. The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

Smoothness:
The only rough I find is “suffering and.” Else, when read in poetic voice, and because of the unvaried momentum set up, the pro/demotions are natural. First, according to Kemper’s Law 🙂 all prepositions scan un/stressed as desired. Many are stressed here. Second, the word, “and” is consistently stressed, except for the two times it starts a line (and the “suffering and” divot mentioned earlier). Third, suddenLY and liturGY.” To me, the rest is so consistent, these also happen naturally. Some might read some of these non-variations, as I hear them, as anapests. I think that merely distinguishes the “voice” with which their read. Finally, there is the “ic” of arithmetic; it’s the fifteenth foot of perfect meter and pairs with “sick” to rhyme. All that momentum seems plenty to legitimately promote the “ic.”

Enjambments of note:
L2 (actually contributed to by L1) … to Mass … to scared/to leave their house. What’s clever here is that at L2, they’re scared of Mass. At L3, it’s scared of leaving … the house. Lot of layers there.

L18 “something quiet and profound that’s led” At this moment, the quiet thing is being led. After the turn, the quiet and profound thing is doing the leading.

Diction:
“bleak arithmetic” such a poignant and economical way to describe the entire aging process
“sorely unprepared” My favorite, because it so subtly yet so surely echoes Luke’s “sore afraid” KJV. Especially with the set up of all the “scared” prior to it.

“whose name cannot be said” Another strong and subtle referece, here to the tradition around G*d, a name too holy to be spoken.

Rhyme: No one will bother about this but me, and it’s truly nitpicking, but the off-rhyme of intercom and balm… they’re so close. That “l” in balm can be softened right down to “bomb.” Eh. Such a tiny thing, but I can’t help but wonder if “calm” could be worked into L8 — though it’s hard to imagine doing that without losing “proclaim” which is a perfect choice. [I call, my voice intense but calm… yuck all that line does is point out how important the word “intercom” is. But I never like to critique without getting in the arena with the poet, not standing on the side and tossing stones.] Truly a tiny nit, but I just can’t help myself.

A final, super-subtle, but super strong effect: “inside my coat.” It communicates the cold of winter in a single word, as well as the cold outside world, but juxtaposed with “Christ inside my coat” shows, in a very nifty way, where our true warmth comes from, the Christ we carry inside.

And thank you for the work of putting it together, Jeffrey. This seems to me one of your best in language that throughout the poem alternately opens and closes the curtain to “a place whose name cannot be said.” That is, a truly transcendent scene.