What Is Lyricism? Part Two.
If lyricism is defined in part by musical language, its other essential attribute is resonance. Lyrical writing does not flit among the flowers — it strikes to the root, to the visceral chord. In that way, lyricism evokes intensity and resonance.
There is no template for resonance, no method by which a writer can reliably reach that bass note. Resonance is like laughter; it requires a leap of faith. The writer leaves a thought unresolved or an image incomplete so the reader can complete it within themself. We laugh the hardest when we connect two dots that are far apart; just so, the most resonant writing requires a reader to finish its meaning without the author’s help.
Resonance often comes from nuance: suggesting meaning rather than stating it outright, creating a mood or feeling without explicitly naming it.
Take, for instance, this poem by Ted Kooser.
A Blind Woman
She had turned her face up into a rain of light, and came on smiling. The light trickled down her forehead and into her eyes. It ran down into the neck of her sweatshirt and wet the white tops of her breasts. Her brown shoes splashed on into the light. The moment was like a circus wagon rolling before her through puddles of light, a cage on wheels, and she walked fast behind it, exuberant, curious, pushing her cane through the bars, poking and prodding, while the world cowered back in a corner.
