“To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen” by Richard Tylman

A poetry review by David Fraser

      In “To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen” Richard Tylman writes about places of the heart, of spirit, compassion and empathy. The Carnegie Building on the East Side of Vancouver houses its kitchen, the only relief service in the city of its kind, a refuge from a world harsher and less benevolent than most Canadians have ever experienced. Once a library built on Andrew Carnegie's donation, then a museum, the Carnegie kitchen is now a place of and for the people.
      It is the people who amaze the poet, not the edifice or its history. It is their gentle nature, their compassion that “remains the exclusive property of people”. His use of “property” not as a possession is juxtaposed to the sense of property that so drives the engines of progress in the Western world, a model condemned by Richard Tylman, and rightly so, for being run by bureaucrats who lawfully take away from the vulnerable through legislative measures.
      The poem begins with “It's been years since I have dined/at the Carnegie…” Dined, not merely “eaten” as if the Carnegie is one of those restaurants that traditionally get reviewed with all the stars. He goes on to use the word “offered” and not “given or served.” “Offered” has a religious ring to it, something given freely like an act of kindness. This kindness (although not his word) is what is at the heart of Carnegie Kitchen in its people who give their “invaluable time” day after day.
      The poem is part tribute to these volunteers called “miracle workers” and part rant against the systemic forces that appear to wage an uncaring neo-conservative war against the impoverished and the homeless. Richard Tylman asks the reader if he or she would “rub shoulders with the motley crew of prisoners of cocaine” on the way in and knows the answer why so few would find a reason to meet these gentle servers of an evening meal. We see this every day; the more fortunate turning a blind eye, avoiding all the unpleasant images of humanity until “the darkened faces” of the needy become invisible. He invites us in, and tells us why we should pay attention. “The reason being the search for proof/that humanness remains the sole property of people.” He goes on to note that here in the kitchen for an affordable price, patrons have choices; vegetarians, vegans have “garden platters”; they have choice, and they have purchasing power that strips away their powerlessness. The patrons get “more than a taste of normalcy in an/abnormal climate” of government cut-backs.
      The Carnegie Centre with the sound of porcelain brings on memories of Krakow, old trams, colourful passengers, and needy individuals from another era of poverty, oppression and injustice. The reference to Poland and the poet's roots is genuine, but it also brings to the fore the “hardening times” of New World politics and harkens back to a much darker era to which we must never ever return.
      In the final stanza the poet comes back to the people who have their own personal challenges, and focuses on how the experience of helping others — as they too pass through this place — has shaped their characters. He says in the memorable line that their “characters are shaped/as gently as the spinach wraps.” He wishes that civil servants and, for that matter, all of the citizens of the Western world who are not so needy could serve behind the counter for a day. But he knows that you can't legislate people to do this, and knows it wouldn't work. He states what we all should realize that “what makes humanity special/depends on those who offer to give/of their own free will.”
      “To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen” is a wonderfully poignant tribute to these gentle servers of humankind who “deserve the best of God's blessing,” and also a subtle call to action for many of us to resist the trend toward a new right-wing “systemic hatred” from those with power.

Joanna

Gayle Mavor

P.S. Stephen King ending: The cow jumps up and assaults the milkmaid!
Which ending do you prefer? 

Maria

Ruth McLeod

Csaba

Marilyn

Hope to hear you read again.
Sincerely
Marilyn

Jenny - Gatineau - Quebec

Ponieważ sama piszę od lat, staram się przegladać strony internetowe poświęcone poezji. Mieszkam w Szwecji od 26 lat; moja strona jest po szwedzku.

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