The roots of David Wright’s Poetry are deeply embedded in a South African Narrative that is both distinctive and profound. It reflects the vibrant and varied culture, history, and sociopolitical discourse of South Africa, making his work not just an aesthetic endeavor but also a cultural expression of his homeland. His poetry displays a unique blend of tradition and innovation, revealing a profound understanding of his cultural roots and an ability to reinterpret these in a contemporary context.

Born on this day February 23, 1920, Wright’s poetry is distinctive for its use of liturgy, which he uses to explore themes of spirituality, transcendence, and human connection. This is evident in his collection Small Books of Bach, where he employs liturgical language and structures to explore the intricacies of faith, doubt, and human experience. The use of liturgy in his poetry serves as a metaphorical bridge between the sacred and the secular, providing a medium through which he interrogates the complexities of human existence within the context of spiritual belief.

His collection Small Books of Bach is also significant for its exploration of music and its metaphoric potential. Wright utilizes Bach as a symbol to explore themes of harmony, discord, and the human capacity for creation and destruction. His poetry thus becomes a form of musical composition, with each poem serving as a unique melody contributing to the larger symphony of his work.

David Wright’s poetry also serves as a testament to the power of local talent in the South African literary scene. His work underscores the importance of nurturing local voices and perspectives, and his success on both a national and international level highlights the significance of local talent in contributing to global literary discourse. Through his poetry, Wright has successfully put South African literature on the world map, affirming the value and potential of local talent in shaping global narratives.

A Santa Fe Storm

Evening, and I watch the sky
from the portal of an old adobe
on Agua Fria Street.

The clouds roll from
the Jemez to drench the city
with what the Navajos call male rain.
Evening blends to night
and the storm stays,
but softer now
as rain turns white.

Lightning, thunder, and the softness, softness
of new snow make strange skyfellows.

As I admire the backlighting
I rejoice in my good fortune.

-David Wright

Curated by Jennifer