• Shana Ritter

The happenstance of blue

This last week has been very full. A trip to Toronto for a family reunion the youngest ages 10 months, the eldest 92, a rare visit from a long time friend, 2 Foundation events and the last week of writing a poem a day for April’s national poetry month.

I have tried three starts at a blog piece this morning:

  1. my grandson asking earnestly where he was when his mother was a child.

  2. the concepts of astrophysics from a poet’s understanding

  3. the vagaries of memory and Alzheimer’s

but I cannot get a prose hold on any one of them. One slips into another, the interrelationship between the three  carries into the territory of poetry. The landscape where metaphor and simile bridge in a way that grammatically constructed sentences cannot. And so on this first of May I’ll share a poem from this past month

The stars are a lie of closeness

candles lit by some god

to tell a constellation of stories,

to measure gravity let loose

a quivered breeze, a flicker of wind

scrub brush, desert sand, a startle of butterflies.

After you die you will live

along the creases of my heart

in those small canyons of breath,

a chord in f minor

a shimmer of leaves, a bending branch

the happenstance of blue.

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