Hi, I’m Traci Brimhall, Poet Laureate of Kansas, here for Poets on the Plains. Today, I’ve been asked to share one of my own poems with you, and since I serve as Laureate for the State of Kansas I decided that I would read a poem of mine that is a tribute to my state. It’s also the first poem I read at a public event after being appointed Poet Laureate.
But first, I’ll tell you a little bit more about me. I was born in Little Falls, MN to a family that moved around a lot, though Kansas is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, and I’ve been here 11 years. I am the author of five collections of poetry, most recently Love Prodigal. One of my favorite experiences as a poet was serving as an Artist-in-Residence for the National Parks Service. I teach poetry at Kansas State University (go Cats) and was appointed Poet Laureate of Kansas in 2023. I will serve in that role until 2026. My favorite projects as laureate have been bringing poetry to the Kansas State Fair; creating a poetry cookbook that unites Kansas chefs and poets; and helping to create this radio program for High Plains Public Radio.
The poem I’m going to read for you today is called “Ad Astra”. It comes from the state motto of Kansas. I’m sure Kansas listeners recognize this phrase, but for other High Plains listeners, this Latin phrase is usually translated to “through adversity to the stars.”
Ad Astra
The story we tell the future will have windmills
and the quiet clap of cottonwood leaves, annual
festivals and old streams elbowing their way into
fields that many histories ago were shallow seas.
The story will be what we make of it, with our corn
mazes and street corners, dirt roads and art districts,
block parties and community gardens. Our chapters
will be like our seasons—reliable in their surprises.
The busy plots of star-baked summers and the slow
conclusion of winter with its catalog of snowflakes.
In the story we are writing into the future there are
kids biking through the neighborhood and a great
blue heron at the pond hunting in its own shadow.
The story has the People of the Wind and people
of the wandering. The rooted and the transplanted.
What comes next, we can almost see—rain’s
brief signature on the sidewalk and a chevron of
migrating geese breaking up the wide open blue.
A story where wind romances a dandelion, and bees
lounge at their favorite goldenrod saloons. The story
we are writing to the future has facts, like how
a sunflower’s face is a union of individual seeds all
leaning towards the sun together. This story grows.
It changes with each day. It’s full of possibilities,
like how, before dawn ripens the horizon, the night
sky dreams one more story for the library of stars.
Unlike other poems I talk about for Poets on the Plains, I actually know more about the history of how this one was written since I pieced it together myself. One thing that makes this poem so much different than any other poem. I had written up until this point was how I thought about audience. For the most part, I am somebody who writes a poem and thinks about beauty and mystery and what it means to be human, but also I tend to write down things that I feel I cannot say. Many times my poems might touch on things that are dark or sad, or which feel to me like things I cannot say, and every day polite conversation.
Writing poems often feels like whispering into a confessional, but not knowing if anybody is sitting in the dark on the other side and hearing me. So often a poem enters the world and receives no response at all. But after being appointed and needing to speak to a crowd of Kansas, I knew somebody would be listening…many people in fact since I read it as part of the day’s events during Governor Kelly’s inauguration. With that in mind, I knew that I wanted it to be a poem about hope. And I also knew I wanted all cannons to feel included— those live in urban spaces and those who live in rural spaces; those who have been here their whole lives and those like me who moved to the sunflower state; those who are also artists and writers and makers, and those who are politely listening and not expecting much.
I have since written many poems for public events, from library openings to visits with farm schools, to the opening of art museums. And I love speaking to specific audiences and sharing poems that really speak to that moment and that place and those people. Especially given that so many poems of my life have been whispers in the dark, it has felt really wonderful to share in the beauty and power of language with people and receive an immediate response. But I also think the language of intimacy and privacy that poetry can do so well is truly important—and even saving—for many of the people who write poems. Often the whispered language of poetry is one of the only places where we can freely put our heartbreak and anger and grief, and even our private joys. So to all High Plains Public Radio listeners, if you want to write a poem and worry about who hears it, you can share it with the night. You can add it to the library of stars. They are listening.
Thank you for being with us for Poets on the Plains. I’m Traci Brimhall, Poet Laureate of Kansas coming to you from Manhattan, Kansas, “the Little Apple.”
POETS ON THE PLAINS HOST and FEATURED POET
Traci Brimhall is the current Poet Laureate of Kansas. She's an avid reader of many genres, but her latest obsession has been reading retellings of Greek myths by authors like Natalie Haynes and Jennifer Saint. Those books help her talk to her 10-year-old son about myths, monsters, and demigods while he reads Percy Jackson. She's a professor of creative writing at Kansas State University and lives in Manhattan, KS.
https://tracibrimhallpoet.com/ . Her books can be ordered at https://tracibrimhallpoet.com/works/ .
