Reviewed by: Safe as Lightning by Scudder H. Parker Patricia Carragon (bio) safe as lightning Scudder H. Parker Rootstock Publishing https://www.rootstockpublishing.com/rootstock-books/safe-as-lightning 134 pages; Print, $15.95 For someone who lived most of her life trapped in the hustle and bustle of filthy streets and subways, surrounded by noise and air pollution, and devalued by toxic work conditions that added to her generational karma, reading Scudder H. Parker's Safe as Lightning would have been daunting. However, it wasn't. In fact, it was spiritually enlightening. Having been through the COVID-19 lockdown for most of 2020, I shifted from political anger to being grounded—more open to oneness with nature and humanity, learning to forgive myself and others, putting the past on the shelf, and experiencing life in a haiku moment. Parker's approach is no-frills. His poetry has a forgotten wholesomeness seen in children's books or in movies like It's a Wonderful Life. His poems are honest, untainted by sentimentality. His simplicity and humility tell stories [End Page 145] of everyday life without urban drama: his boyhood to manhood, the family farm, living in Vermont, his marriage and family, and so forth. We get to laugh at the author's dilemma of feeding the cats. We learn how unruly broccoli can be and that he has an affection for toads. He introduces us to his grandson, his mother's art, and more. In his introductory poem, "The Poem of the World," Parker brings our senses to hear, see, and feel nature: a doe tapping its hoof to break the ice, purplish rust on forsythia leaves, red and blue potatoes drying in the sun, the lovemaking tickles of shared laughter, the singing of ocean pebbles, and a morning chorus of birds. The wanting to become part of the natural world. Each stanza is as exquisite as the first. The one that resonates the most is: The poem of the world wants me to wakein my own body; it is astonished I might letthese bones grow brittle. The author realizes that he is trapped in a body destined to age, but his environment leaves him in awe. He learns to live in the present, not to worry about the future. His call to serving the public and for Christ Conscientious humanizes Jesus Christ in "Early Memories of Jesus." He depicts Christ as his secret friend, rather than the iconic Savior on the Cross, in the Bible, or in a sermon: Though I never spoke his name,he was the friend who daydreamed with me … He could find wild gingerunder leaves bleached and frailed by winter;blue cohosh uncurling fingersthe color of evening in a maple woods.We found and ate wild onions, green flags,red bulbs flecked with loam,so spring would infect our breath. He goes on to say that Christ taught him how to enjoy the land and its riches, and share their echoes across the valley. The Crucifixion never entered their conversations. It was best left in the past. Parker believes that Christ wasn't [End Page 146] overcome by charity after leaving home, but finally reached God through sacrifice. Years pass, and their friendship endures. Christ has a small place on the edge of town, and they pick wild onions for soup, watch the night sky lighten: I asked if he had heard from God.He said he hadn'tand still missed him,but he understoodhow easy it is to get preoccupied. As we talked, the moon—the somewhat predictabletemporary moon—that tugstwice every day at our bodiesrose like a fragile eggin the denim sky. As an adult, Sutter retains his intimate friendship with the human Christ. Christ hasn't heard from God, possibly because God might be preoccupied. There is no malice or rancor, only a compassionate understanding as they watch the "fragile egg" moon rise in the "denim sky." The farm metaphors work, bring humility and acceptance to close the final stanza. In "Humility," Parker opens his wounds. It takes twenty-five years for him to learn from his land's rot within his...