[32] Chirps from the Sparrow

So many changes have transpired since I last wrote to the Sparrow’s readers.  I shattered my elbow in 2016 and graduated from Harvard University in 2017 through a sea of pain.  My voice fell silent.  To our writers and artists, please know, by virtue of your appearance in Grey Sparrow, your gift of words and art are honored.  I was afraid I would lose our readership when Microsoft closed their web hosting and we were forced to move.  Thank you for finding our new home!

First, it’s been awhile since a writer submitted work to Grey Sparrow with no prior publications.  Leslie King is now an author with this summer issue.  We share in his excitement.

And, a fine artist is honored in addition to our poet for our National Treasure series.  A few words of whimsy on this subject…

Summer 2018 Motif #1, small (1)
Rockport, Inner Harbor, Motif#1
Oil, 20×30
Fine Artist Sean Moore

Sean Moore is Grey Sparrow’s National Treasure in the Visual Arts.  

Light shimmers on the water of Grey Sparrow’s pages…boats gently rock in the safe harbor of community, waiting for mariners to take them out to sea, to brave the wind and water…and navigate new horizons.  Then, Moore’s light-house stretches in the distance guiding those skippers through dangerous storms, shoals and rocks with a beacon of hope.

Now, to Grey Sparrow’s National Treasure in Poetry…

Summer 2018 Teasdale._Photograph_by_Gerhard_Sisters,_ca._1910_Missouri_History_Museum_Photograph_and_Print_Collection._Portraits_n21
Sara Teasdale, 1910

Sara Teasdale, Pulitzer Prize Poet of 1918, wrote, “Life has loveliness to sell.”  On January 29, 1933, she overdosed on sleeping pills.  The Sparrow was at a crossroads —to publish her foreshadowing poem of loss and eventual suicide or her soft elegant verse that cherishes life.

Tragically, too many writers, like Teasdale, commit suicide, at times, mired in drugs, alcohol, and tragedy.  Teasdale is a reminder of what the world lost.  There’s nothing so irrevocably final as death.

March, march on, dear poets, artists, and friends, and remember, only your voice and your eyes offer a unique understanding of these complicated, universal moments of creation.

                           -Diane Smith

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