I first encountered Ted Kooser’s narrative poem "Pearl" during a pivotal time in my life, a few years ago. My father-in-law had recently passed away after a painful illness, and the weight of that grief was compounded by the demands of everyday life.
I was navigating memorial services, family responsibilities, and the emotional toll of loss when this poem came into my life. It resonated deeply, not only as a reflection of my own feelings but as a reminder of the power of the emotional honesty of poetry.
Here is Kooser reading "Pearl" at the Dodge Poetry Festival in 2008:
Reading this poem felt like sitting across from someone who could articulate the emotions I was struggling to name in a way that felt real and authentic.
This poem served as a reminder of the power of poetry to hold space for loss without rushing to resolve it.
Thinking back to the moments after first reading "Pearl," I understood why Kooser’s work is celebrated for its quiet honesty and ability to transform the everyday into the extraordinary.
Over the years, I've written many "grief" poems, but today I'm re-visiting "Pearl" to think about how I can borrow that emotional honesty the poem's speaker captures so well.
Finding emotional honesty in narrative poetry
For me, "Pearl" exemplifies how narrative poetry can bridge the personal and the universal. The poem tells the story of Kooser visiting his cousin Pearl to inform her of his mother’s passing.
"Pearl" is filled with details so ordinary they could easily be overlooked—instant coffee, a cardigan, the striped light of blinds.
Yet these details carry the weight of connection and loss, making them deeply resonant.
Unlike prose fiction, which often centers on plot and character development, poetry focuses on emotional impact.
Kooser’s simple language and straightforward storytelling bring us directly into the raw vulnerability of grief. Lines like “I was still my mother’s boy, that boy for the rest of my life” hit with profound clarity, offering a glimpse into how grief reshapes our identity.
The challenges of writing grief
As a poet, I’ve struggled with writing about loss. It often feels impossible to capture the magnitude of grief without either diminishing it or becoming overly self-absorbed.
In my journal, I once wrote that elegies can feel like “a failed rescue attempt”—an effort to save something or someone that cannot be saved.
Re-reading "Pearl" reminded me that poetry doesn’t need to rescue us from grief; it only needs to bear witness to it.
Kooser doesn’t attempt to explain or justify his sorrow. Instead, he lets the narrative unfold naturally, allowing small moments to speak volumes.
This honesty made me reflect on how I approach my own elegies—and how I can embrace imperfection in writing through grief.
In poems I've written that grapple with loss, I've tried to embrace this "imperfection" in writing through grief.
For example, in "Death Was My Doula," I tried to explore the ever-present nature of loss in moments of transformation.
I'm still learning how to navigate the challenge of writing grief, but Kooser's "Pearl" has helped me approach my writing in different ways.
Poetry writing lessons from Kooser's "Pearl"
We could probably spend an entire semester talking about "Pearl." But I'm going to hone in on three key lessons I'm taking away for poets looking to write about grief or other deeply emotional experiences:
1. Find the extraordinary in the ordinary
Kooser’s poem transforms everyday details into powerful symbols. This ability to elevate the ordinary into something extraordinary is a skill.
In "Pearl," the act of making instant coffee becomes a gesture of connection; the description of light on the stairs suggests the presence of something unseen.
These small, specific moments ground the poem in reality, giving the reader something to hold, while carrying emotional weight.
For me, this is a reminder to pay attention to the little things, and it's something I tried to explore in "If I See You Again," where I reflected on loss through subtle, personal imagery.
When writing about loss, it’s often the most mundane details that resonate most deeply with readers. They’re the anchors that make grief feel both personal and universal.
2. Embrace emotional honesty
Kooser’s tone is unpretentious and direct, which makes his portrayal of grief (an our experience of it as readers) all the more affecting.
He doesn’t shy away from vulnerability or attempt to wrap his sorrow in elaborate metaphors. Instead, he allows his words to speak plainly, trusting their truth to connect with readers.
This is something I’m working to embrace in my own poetry—letting go of the need to “get it right” and simply writing what feels true.
I've written a reminder to myself on a Post-it and put on my writing desk: "Emotional honesty doesn’t require perfection. It requires courage."
3. Let narrative serve emotion
The narrative structure of "Pearl" is simple: a visit, a conversation, a goodbye.
But within this straightforward narrative, Kooser layers moments of humor, nostalgia, and heartbreak.
In other words, the story supports the emotional arc of the poem, rather than overshadowing it.
As a poet, this inspires me to think about how narrative can enhance the emotional core of my work.
For example, in "Once Upon a Time," rather than focusing on plot, I try to let the feelings drive the story of the poem, using narrative as a framework to guide the reader through the experience.
My takeaways as a poet
Ultimately, Kooser's poem has helped me think about poetry as a bridge to understanding grief, that universal human emotion we just can't avoid.
Put another way, when I read "Pearl," I wasn’t just reading about Kooser’s loss—I was revisiting my own. The poem reminded me that grief is not something to be fixed or solved. It is something to be felt, to be witnessed, and to be shared.
As poets, we have the unique ability to capture these moments and offer them to others. In some of my poems, I've sought to hold space for grief in a way that mirrored how Kooser’s "Pearl" affected me—by focusing on small, human experiences so that the grief itself can be reshaped and redefined.
"Pearl" taught me that even the simplest words can carry immense power when they come from a place of truth. And it reminded me why I turn to poetry in times of both joy and sorrow: because it has the courage to sit with us, no matter where we are.
The next time I struggle to write through grief, I hope to remember what "Pearl," taught me—that it’s okay to sit in the shadows, to let the words come imperfectly, and to trust that they will be enough.
What about you? What poems have helped you reimagine big emotions? I'd love to know! Send me a message and let me know, or comment on the post below.
Happy reading and writing!
