A Doorway Into Thanks

Poetry should be transitive, and deal with something other. Thus, a doorway offers transition, liminal space, an invitation, a going across, into possibly numerous somethings other. We can’t assume, however, that the door is always open; if closed, we need to open it. A doorway can confront us: Have we the courage to reach for the handle? Given the horrors of 2020 and 2021, we must open the door both to grieving and thanksgiving. The poems here are midrashim. Midrash is a reflection on scripture. These poems first imagine passages and stories from the Bible and then reimagine them: they build stages, create, and breathe life into characters, and landscape biblical passages with new, often challenging, backgrounds. Many of the poems here have religio-political subtexts. The poems speak of darkness, the things that darken our country and our hearts, but they also speak of the life-giving lights of mystery, wonder, and thanksgiving, the things that give us hope. As writer and poet Louise Erdrich tells us, “This is how our lives complete themselves, / as effortless as weather, circles blaze / in ordinary days, and through our waking selves / they reach, to touch our true and sleeping speech.”

A Black Girl's Truth

“The truth holds no lies. Lies are what ties you down and tapes your mouth shut. We can run away from all the things we fear. We can hide our troubles with beauty, but a lie will always catch you. The truth is the only thing that will set you free. I didn’t believe that until I wrote it. In this life, we will all face many questions, and sometimes we won’t find the answers. How do you know the difference between what’s real and what’s fake? How do you breathe when you are underwater? What’s the hardest part about goodbye?  Every story, every hope, and every word have a purpose. Pen against the pad was like me against the world. Told from not only my eyes, but my heart, and now the words are written for all to see. You can not only read my truth but also find answers to your own questions.”

– Destiny Gilchrist

A Bird from the Battlefront

This evening,
No one looks like me.
I put my heart into the fridge,
My eyes into the shoe closet.
I left my fingers yonder on the door handle.
This evening
No one looks like me
I set on the edge of my silence
Chew what is left of the news
Ask the lady announcer to become sexier
When numbering today’s victims;
Her excitement is a surplus femininity
Messing with the awe of death.
This evening,
No one looks like me.
And the knife slitting my neck from behind
Feels as soft as the collar of my shirt.
One
Single
Unique
Solo
I am this evening
And no one looks like me
Except
The twenty-three million Syrians
Who write this same poem
Even now.

13 Lives

Still reeling from her family’s execution during the Salem Witch Trails and her own unnatural extended lifeline, in the present day, Margaret Baker is a twenty-two-year-old witch. She finds herself falling in love in the big apple while also trying to come to terms with and overcome her survivors’ guilt. A ghost from her past re-emerges and shakes up her world. In a story of love, loss, betrayal, and grief, Margaret must rise above all her demons in order to truly be happy. Will she finally be able to accept her family’s death? Will she find the courage to love herself and accept the love of another?