Summary
The speaker begins the poem by stating that, at least sometimes, it is impossible to pray. However, they continue, even if people cannot speak a prayer, the prayer can come into existence independently—it "utters itself." The speaker then provides an example. They describe a woman who lifts her face up from the "sieve of her hands"—perhaps a way to describe two cupped hands—to "stare at the minims sung by a tree." A minim is a musical term referring to a half-note. Therefore, the woman is staring up to look at the short notes coming out of a tree. The narrator calls this moment a "gift."
Analysis
The straightforward, conversational language of this stanza belies the complexity of Carol Ann Duffy's figurative language. The poem feels calm, even meditative, to read. But take a moment to examine it line by line, and it begins to seem almost dizzyingly strange. Here we'll discuss both of these sides of the poem. How does Duffy go about creating this lulling, conversational calm? And, at the same time, what are the more complicated dynamics at play?
Already, just one stanza in, readers can see that the poem doesn't have a strict meter or rhythm. This makes it feel more casual, like talking to a friend rather than listening to a performance. However, that's not to say that the poem is rhythmically chaotic or unpredictable. To a great extent, Duffy hews close to iambic pentameter, the most traditional meter for English poetry. The poem's first line, for instance, is composed of ten syllables, with stress placed on the second syllable, the fourth, the sixth, and so on. Iambic pentameter isn't just soothing and familiar for poetry lovers. The reason that it's so common is because it sounds natural and conversational in English. Ten syllables is a typical length for a spoken English phrase. Therefore, by using iambic pentameter, Duffy creates a natural, familiar feeling for readers. At the same time, she keeps it from feeling robotic by offering some variation in the meter. Rhyme, however, supplies a sense of predictability and safety here. The first stanza—and the following two, as we will soon see—follows an ABAB rhyme scheme. The first line ends with the word "prayer," and the third with "stare," while the second and fourth end, respectively, with "lift" and "gift."
Collectively, these sound devices make us feel relaxed, even soothed. They are musical, but not virtuosic—they're like listening to someone casually singing, or even praying. In this way, they reflect the wider point or observation that the speaker is making in this stanza. The speaker explains here that prayer isn't just something that happens in religious settings. Instead, prayer can come into existence in unexpected and unintentional ways. The speaker will go on to list various everyday utterances or sounds that, for various reasons, can be considered prayer. But the very shape of the poem is also a prayer: it is sound and language used in a devotional or meditative manner, and the poem as a whole can be read as an expression of gratitude. Just as traditional religious prayer toes a line between conversation and scripted performance, so does this particular poem.
The actual example of a "prayer" offered in this stanza, however, is somewhat confusing. Even the vocabulary and figurative language in this second half of the stanza might give readers pause. "Minim" is a technical musical term, and "sieve of her hands" is a slightly ambiguous metaphor (since a sieve is often used to catch water, one way to interpret this is that the woman is crying). Most perplexing are the synesthetic descriptions Duffy uses here. The woman being described "stares," but not at anything visual—instead, she's listening to a sound, namely the sound of the tree's song. Since trees don't typically sing, we can guess that the tree is probably a metonymic stand-in for the birds singing in its branches. The description can be parsed and understood without much trouble, and we can understand that the woman is looking at a tree while listening to the sound of birdsong emerging from it. But Duffy blends the senses of sight and sound, and uses metonymy to personify the tree, rendering it capable of singing. In this way, she conveys something about the nature of these prayerful experiences. They are transporting, full-body moments, in which the world as a whole simultaneously expresses and appreciates. The sound of birdsong affects all of the woman's senses and alters the orientation of her whole body, while also turning the silent tree into a demonstrative, expressive being.
