February 2022
Bio Note: I see poems in emerging images poured in concrete, in cats at sleep, in grass growing. It all becomes poem worthy. I am the founding editor of RATTLE, a poetry journal, and now editor Emerita. Two of my books have been entrants for the Pulitzer Prize, and my New & Selected Works, Queen of Jacks, is now available on Amazon. I was honored to win the grand prize of Poetry to Aide Humanity in 2013 by Al Falah in Malaysia. I received a Ph.D. from Honolulu University and work privately with students who are dedicated to learning how to write. My students are all over the U.S. If you know nothing else about me, know that I was born in the year of the dragon.
All Saints' Day
We held a celebration of life last night
in a deadly cold, cold to the point of thinking,
so this is what it feels like when all warmth
leaves the body, lips already turned blue.
I felt I was standing beside Mary and Martha
not forgetting the promise of eternal life,
but naming my dead over and over because
I see no evidence any of them will return.
Revelation 21 says, The Holy One shows us
a vision of the new heaven and new earth,
where everyone will live in peace and blessing.
Peace: there must be a joke here somewhere.
We huddled together in Ijams nature preserve,
wetlands, trails, 315 acres of protected wildlife
habitat, freezing, hoping to find a new beginning.
Broken Worlds
Babbitt came out in 1922, but it wasn’t until 1957
I did a book report and thought, really thought,
That’s life, the way it’s supposed to be. God knows
I didn’t want to use my own family as a role model,
and I was too naïve to understand Sinclair Lewis’ novel
was a scathing indictment of middle-class American
values about a conformist, who in his ignorance,
was nothing short of materialistic, an anti-intellectual
to boot, as if that should be a good way of life for anyone.
It’s a blooming miracle I got from 1957 to 2021 alive.
I never would have discussed these matters with
my mother who looked like she might break
if anything more was asked of her, and my dad
was already broken; came back from the war that way.
So, I muddled through a forest of possibilities,
tripped over fallen trees, skirted around gopher holes
looking for sustenance and found Ray Carver, Tu Fu,
Li Po, and Komunyakaa, who climbed mountain trails,
survived the lone moon and howling packs of wolves,
found the courage to enter Dragon’s Gate all writers
must pass through to send poems downriver.
©2022 Stellasue Lee
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL