There was a moment in which I sincerely believed this collection of poems would never leave my grasp. Repetitive years of finding a home in the many particles of my mind, and yet always carrying the notion that they had not yet found their very way back to the poem in which they were always designed to be.
Oh, and over the last week or so I’ve had the grandest revelation about them…they have always had their very home. There are lives I have lived in my creation where I simply do not have any more to speak upon them. Lines that were born out of single sentences and were never perhaps meant to carry on much after that. The early years of the 2020’’s decade was much of that. Traumatic. Terrifying. Transformational. But words that lived in that very time have simply deceased. Is it simply not something wondrous in being prevented from re-living treacherous times? Is it not?
And they’re all yours now. Eat up.
~jaydan mcleod~
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