Loving Memory Poem by Sandra Feldman

AND THE TEARS DON'T RHYME That closing image hit me hard because rhyme as A.E.Stallings says is THE HONEY OF OUR POETRY and if that honey doesn't help, if that sweetness is unavailing, then the problem overwhelms the solution. What solution? Our ability to articulate in words the reality of our interior selves. That's what we are doing all the time: mining the emotional resources of our interior selves, pulling up the strength within, which is then embodied in our poems. I know this is true after reading RoseAnn Shawiak's poems for the past two plus years. She has made the interior world and its emotional/psychic forces so real to me, and it always seems access to this realm is simply the act of writing a poem about your immediate situation. It could be eating, or walking, or music making, or sharing intimacies, or any of what the Chinese call the TEN THOUSAND THINGS. AND IF ANYONE HAS INVOKED AND CELEBRATED THE TEN THOUSAND THINGS IN HER MANY POEMS THAT POET IS SANDRA FELDMAN..