There are many poems and stories out there, especially now that the internet allows us to connect in ways we wouldn’t have before.
I like to say I’ve found a writer, but really the writers I come across are not found, they are seen. Finding them implies they were lost, which they never were.
Loss and movement collide in this poem from the beginning, “I rarely go up there anymore.” To me, this loss of movement implies the inevitable transition of energy to another movement.
Whether this transition is through grief or the need to retreat or avoid or both simultaneously, because we, as humans, are intricate creatures multifaceted with complex feelings and responses, her words instill the ache of loss in each line.
I enjoyed Sandy’s poem, the words and arrangemnets echoed my own losses, for time has a way of wiping all marks of chalk from the board, whether we wish for them to remain or not.
Most definitely make time to check out The Pathos of an Attic and let me know what you think in the comments.