At the moment, I am grateful to Ellen Wade Beals, and glad that her anthology, Solace in So Many Words, begun when she wanted to give solace after 9/11, is coming out now.
Here are a few excerpts:
From "Bleeding Heart," by Constance Vogel Adamkeiwicz, the first poem in the book:
Amid the rubble of demolition, where nothing else has survived, a bleeding heart grows, red blood dripping from delicate arcs.
In my own flower bed, the tiny first spikes of bleeding heart are coming up amid the tulip spears.
From "And What If I Spoke of Despair" by Ellen Bass:
And what if I spoke of despair--who doesn't feel it? Who doesn't know the way it seizes, leaving us limp, deafened by the slosh of our own blood, rushing through the narrow, personal channels of grief. It's beauty that brings it on, calls it out from the wings for one more song.
One more song, one more song of beauty, let us keep singing.
"You must change your life," said Rilke. So that's what I keep doing. I worked as an actor, wrote for an encyclopedia, edited a literary magazine, and taught college English courses. Now I write poetry, blog "eight days a week," and listen to birdsong.