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B"H
9 April 2021/27 Nisan 5781
Dear friends and fellow poets, We are happy to tell you that at long last the new issue of The Deronda Review is now online Since our last issue, printed just before the month of March 2020, some things that underpinned our world have overturned, and we're still trying to sort out what happened whether sometimes-abusive mother Nature produced the little agent of destruction alone, or with a bit of prompting from those with an interest in creating chaos, or whether we should view it as an angel (a messenger) from the Creator sent to tell us something we should take to heart but if so, what ? Your Editor is writing on the morning following Yom HaShoah, a day for memories of events which some have said ought to preclude the further writing of poems ("After Auschwitz, to write a poem is a barbaric act" Theodor Adorno), and indeed, I did not feel to write that day. Yet I've never understood why, of all things, poetry (not, for instance, running trains) should bear the onus of man's blackest deeds; the fact is, though, that since the Holocaust, the voice of poetry sounds ever fainter Who reads it nowadays? Who prints, who quotes it? Is that a sign we're getting less barbaric?
Last week I heard about a protest movement against the pressures which our government exerts on those wary of vaccination the instigator, a psychiatrist, feels freedom is at stake, and urges those anxious to keep their freedom, to unite (I've urged the same, myself, for many years). He has online a lecture series meant to strengthen us in mental liberation it's in Hebrew, here. I listened to the first. The definition which he gives of freedom rang true for me: It is the ability to listen to one's inner voice and give it some presence, through our action, in the world. But does not any poem worth the name come from a listening to one's inner voice? And is that not why tyrants always hate it? The Soviet dictators sent their poets to gulags, or compelled them to sing false, whereas the West developed subtler means -- the media (see Batsheva Wiesner's poem on p. 14). For who can lend an ear to the soul's quiet promptings when the air is filled with venal voices bent on shaping perception to some purpose in the dark? Till people think in slogans and see just what they are told to see -- and think they choose.
At any rate, our purpose has been always to give to poems we perceive as springing from listening to some inner voice, a hearing, and hope that in this issue you will find some echoes of your own internal voices. One to whom we sent proofs* said that she felt "melded together in a common prayer"* with those appearing with her on the page that was, indeed our meaning. We begin, as usual, with some talk about the weather (a conversation-starter that does serve to situate the speakers in one world), followed by poems springing from the lives which in the normal course of things we lead, and then some poems where the focus narrows to the essence of the self. But then the context of history asserts itself, which doesn't invariably respect the normal course. After that comes a section situating the poem in the context of its writing, and then a section on the theme of "numbers" in their most various meanings for our lives (we slipped in there some poems on poetry, for which one term used, oddly, to be "numbers"). Next to last, some poems processing in various ways the seasons of pandemic, and finally, certain poems which refract traditional stories in some novel ways here too there are upheavals. We thank all who sent us work this time, and all who'll read, and close with fervent wishes for the health of all, and of the body politic.
Esther Cameron, Editor-in-Chief
Together we sing the world electric and rage against the dying Mindy Aber Barad Golembo, Co-editor
*Susan Oleferuk
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