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an
introduction “Poetic language – the poem on paper –
is a concretization of poetry of the world at large, the self, and the
forces within the self; and those forces are rescued from formlessness,
lucidified and integrated in the act of writing poems.
But there is a more ancient concept of the poet, which is that
she is endowed to speak for those who do not have the gift of (poetic)
language, or to see for those who - for whatever reason – are less
conscious of what they’re living through.
It is as though the risks of the poet’s existence can be put to
some use beyond her own survival.” (p. 194, Gelphi, B.C. and
Gelpi, A. Eds. Adrienne Rich’s Poetry and Prose.
New York; Norton) 1993 “My silences had not protected me.
Your silence will not protect you.
But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made
to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made
contact.” (Audre Lorde, The Cancer Journals, (Argyle,
New York: Spinsters Ink) 1980 “The discipline of poetry is in overhearing yourself speak difficult truths from which it is impossible to retreat. Poetry is a break for freedom.” (David Whyte) The poems here have journeyed with me for over
twelve years. Written on
torn scraps, paper napkins, triangles of envelopes, they were the secret
companions of a long struggle to “know” – the kind of knowing that
clarifies and lightens. When
I could not shape words around what was happening inside, it was poets
– Adrienne Rich, Audre Lorde, David Whyte, Mary Oliver, Marge Piercey
– who spoke the words that I could not speak for myself, who provided
the mirror I couldn’t find, and who therefore brought me into knowing. For this reason, I now release these poems to the
world, hoping that they do for others what was done for me.
May this risk – the risk of my existence – “be put to some
use beyond my own survival”. “There
come times – perhaps this is one of them –
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