|
Letters
Jul 16, 2024 17:57:52 GMT -5
Post by susank on Jul 16, 2024 17:57:52 GMT -5
Letters
April 1969, my grandfather sent airmail from Jerusalem to his son, two years after that city was – in the Jewish version of the story – reunited. He only wanted
to say kaddish, and finding the hotel synagogue unavailable, wandered by accident into the tiny shul where his father had prayed daily, when he moved to Israel in the fifties to die, so he could be buried in the holy city.
How does a person evaluate a spiritual experience in everyday terms and still retain the wonderment of the experience?
Mostly, the letter describes their trip from Detroit, a series of mishaps that ended with the story of a man who, when he heard my grandfather’s name showed him a plaque bearing the name of Selig Knoppow. A miracle in his eyes.
My mother kept a stack of letters in the kitchen cupboard above the telephone desk all marked Return to Sender in her sister’s handwriting – Valentines and birthday cards to my cousins tucked next to the cookbooks.
As a child, I took them out sometimes, then one day they were gone.
|
|
|
Letters
Jul 17, 2024 11:04:31 GMT -5
Post by denise on Jul 17, 2024 11:04:31 GMT -5
Susan -- first and foremost, I hope you and your family are feeling better.
Your poem has so many layers and I have so many questions! First, is the third stanza the speaker's words/thoughts or part of the grandfather's letter? Also, I am wondering about the transition to the letters in the penultimate stanza. The last two stanzas feel to me like they could almost be a standalone/separate poem so I would love to better understand the connection to the grandfather's letter and experiences. I feel like I may be missing something. Hope you can make the call this afternoon!
Denise
|
|
|
Letters
Jul 19, 2024 11:16:33 GMT -5
Post by Gerry on Jul 19, 2024 11:16:33 GMT -5
Susan, as I said when we talked about this poem in class, I think you're either working with a longer sectional poem or a more robust piece of creative nonfiction. (there's a great essay by Anne Fadiman called "Mail" that I'm now thinking of...). As a poem, the last stanza about the mother is surely not part of this poem (though it's both funny and sad), and the poem trips me up some after the letter excerpt. The hims get confusing and confused. I do think there's the heart of a poem in here though. Surely the material. You just need to figure out which is the best way to do it justice. You seemed to already know that.
|
|