Jose Alcantara understands our world’s need to do as violets do, be as they are, in their thrust into the world. This month’s featured poems speak to the motion of joy within stilled moments, that primal sense/ of treading water in bed Tanya Grae writes of in “Waterline,” and a way of taking/ Into myself the single light shining at the center… in “Out of These Wounds, the Moon Will Rise“by Jay Hopler.
We have two poems by Kasey Jueds, and she considers To be made/of absence/like this: in “Window and Field” and “The Bat” reminds us of Blake’s angels, how they leaned/
toward each other, and balanced/ by touching only the tips of their wings?
Poetry allows us to question and ponder the responses we have to our world, helps remind us of our internal sense of being, our need for quiet, and the freedom to move within that space,
like the one just after rain begins, when rain
isn’t rain, but the smell
of dust lifted, something silent and clean.
(from “The Bat”)
As poets we try to hear the murmurs of truths beneath the noise of untruths, and so we observe, we listen, we respond, again and again because we must.