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Air. 

Man, as we are told by untiring optimists, is made of the same particles that fuel the stars in their endless pulsation and scintillation. Ledger opens herself up with an artistic iteration that is as life-affirming and art-enhancing as the restless celestial wonders themselves. The first stanza at once contextualizes the necessity of man‟s faith – in the Self, both corporeal and Higher - “…destination/ beyond magnetic poles/ but to answers of the spirit,/ divinity resting in the tip/ of its needle.” - with the tip of the compass needle in its veritable promptings, bearing most of the gravitas of the piece. Or, pathos, when she laments in the second and third stanza – “of life being lived cheaply,/ disposable for its lack of value/ disregarded in an instantaneous exhalation of a breath” So much has been said about how deplorable life has become for many of us, yet Ledger‟s Dickinsonian language makes it seemingly easy to breathe it all in so we can look at it with a methodical eye as we compartmentalize it somewhere in our layered existence. Then she springs back with an assurance that she is well and breathing vis-avis life‟s ugly side and all that which appertains to the wretchedness of realities as unbridled negativism, etc.

I may be weak or of failure’s own design but I can remark with pride This poem for the most part is an existentialist paean for the Self – as being the one last guy standing in the face of trials and tribulations. 22


SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.