This month I bring you another healing poem by Carolyn L. Tipton, PhD, originally appearing in her collection of poetry, The Poet of Poet Laval (2019), published by Salmon Poetry of County Clare, Ireland. A resident of Berkeley, California, Tipton has translated two books of poems by Spanish poet Rafael Alberti: the first, To Painting, won the National Translation Award; the second, Returnings: Poems of Love and Distance, won the Cliff Becker Translation Prize. She has been awarded fellowships from both the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. She earned a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley, where she has taught for many years in the Fall Program for Freshmen. She also taught at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and San Francisco State University. The poem below considers the healing power of stones, first citing an ancient lapidary, then extrapolating from it, wondering about the efficacy of using the reputed power of stones to assuage the pain of a lost friendship and of mutability in general, the way things seem to change, whether we want them to or not. The last stanza wonders if, in some situations, stones are not what is needed at all. The title of the poem, “Lapidary,” refers to a text in verse or prose that describes the properties and virtues of precious and semi-precious stones. The ancient origins of these stone-lists, expounding upon the magical and medicinal powers of stones, can be traced to the lapidary traditions of Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome. Influenced by classical sources (the early Greek lapidaries viewed stones and gems as essentially medicinal), medieval Europe regarded stone-lore as an accepted aspect of medical science, used to treat physical as well as spiritual ailments. Some medieval lapidaries are signed as being owned or written by doctors of medicine. The most common method of medical application was to wear the stone; or, one could grind the stone into an ointment or take it internally in ground form. The sheer number of extant lapidary texts from the 11th-15th centuries—616 in all—testifies to their popularity. The connection between lapidaries and the art of medicine in medieval Europe is a late 11th-century development. By the 13th century, treatises on stones are more accurately classified as scientific literature, providing explanation of cosmic phenomena according to the metaphysical theories of Aristotle. The first modern treatise on the topic of mineralogy is the 13th-century Book of Minerals, written by Albertus Magnus (c. 1200-1280), a German Dominican friar, philosopher, scientist, and bishop. Known in his lifetime as “Doctor universalis” and “Doctor expertus,” he is considered by scholars as the greatest German philosopher and theologian of the Middle Ages. In the poem below, the first stanza refers to Book II of Albertus’ treatise, which includes an alphabetic encyclopedia of 99 stones. As the poem explains, he “tells the virtues of the stones”: their benefits and how to apply them, where to find them. In the next stanza, the poet wonders if she could “cure the ache of a lost friendship” by adapting her version of the magic prescribed by the old lapidary texts. She could take a letter from the friend, wrap it in a faded stone, “pulverize it, mix the dust with seeds / of native flowers, scatter in the garden.” Perhaps, blooms would appear, symbolizing hope for a resurrected friendship. For "help accepting mutability,"she could celebrate it, by making a beautiful necklace out of pebbles that will not stay wet for long and will only reflect a passing cloud for a moment. Or, she could “ward off the hour’s thinness” by taking actions meant to reveal life’s hidden richness: the stone she uses is found in a pool in whose unseen depths trout flash, and it is placed in the heart of a flower which is blooming, though hidden from our gaze—that is, perhaps what we see as thin is actually rich, but we have just not perceived it as such. In the final stanza, she wonders if, at times, in order to heal, one must go beyond the boundaries of the lapidary, beyond stones. The stone is “too heavy.” The soul needs “something lighter”: “the lifting of the heron” or “smoke as it rises,” the “fragrance” of “the peach blossom.” Not a lake, but “the running stream.” Our spirits can be healed in many ways; figuring out what is needed can be an imaginative journey in itself. Such is the healing message of this 21st-century lapidary. The editorial assistance of Cathy Chance Harvey, PhD, of Tylertown in the preparation of this poem is gratefully acknowledged. Physicians are invited to submit poems for publication in the Journal either by email at drluciuslampton@gmail.com or regular mail to the Journal, attention: Dr. Lampton.—Ed.
