Editor’s Note

Ashley Renselaer, Founder & Editor-in-Chief

Dear Readers, 

After two years of a global pandemic, isolation, loss and grief, we wake up to the unimaginable  and senseless act of war and destruction unleashed upon Ukraine; a war in Eastern Europe and an ensuing humanitarian crisis that trigger new waves of pain, and sadness. Our constant companions, the universe seems to tell us, are fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. Somehow, as much hope and optimism as we muster, the unthinkable seems to resurface again and again.  In “It Comes in Every Storm”, poet Olga Orozco asks:

And don’t you feel also, perhaps, a stormy sorrow on the skin of time,
like a scar that opens again
there where the sky was uprooted?

The poems in our Issue 07 resonate with these sentiments. In her stunning poem, Honey Child, Maya Kompella tells us of grief and pain: “The bee’s wing has broken, world’s finest glass / now a shattered mosaic across the sidewalk. / You reach out to touch it and it splinters / under your soft touch. A small life is ending”. There is also the lament of void and existential sorrow in Sam Moe’s poem Peat Moss: “what if one day I / Awake to a weeping willow in the / Center of my lungs, yet aren’t I now / Feeding, taking, drinking, loving in / My limbs, hands like anchors drag / Out silt, cuddle with ecosystems of / Ambition, until I am drained of my / Purpose”.

And yet, there is also comfort and solace in Issue 07 – comfort and solace that rises from loss and melancholy. In Time Rolls On, James G. Piatt reminds us of the enduring power of love and memory when all else is lost: “And, even though / there may not be time / to pick warm apples, / and apricots / from our trees this next summer, / or plant tomatoes, /squash, / cucumbers, / and bell peppers / in our summer garden, / there will still be time / for us to hold each other, and / that will suffice”. Then, in a burst of “good news”, Charlie Brice gives us renewed hope and trust in Ghost Bird: “The best part of a snowy day, like today, / is the meander of hot tea as it makes its way / down a throat and the crunch of toast sheathed / in a marmalade greatcoat that makes / the world feel warmer while sticky / flakes carpet the yard”.

These are dark times mirroring an ever so reopening scar – a never-healing wound. But we must take comfort where we find it. We must once again let poetry’s energy float in our souls and make us stay above the water – for now.

Humbly,

Ashley Renselaer
Founder & Editor-in-Chief
Words & Whispers Literary Journal