Beth Gordon reviews Laura Grace Weldon’s portals
This book is a collection of spaces, places, people and things – and the ways they are connected. Weldon’s voice is understated and measured, yet these poems are not quiet. They speak of a universal desire for enlightenment, for evolution or revolution, for something entirely new. As in the poem, “First Light.”
Pillowcase wrinkles
on my face are spacetime,
my bed aloft on cosmic riptides.
From here I can see every particle
entangled with every other particle.
While the variety of portals is expansive (mail trucks, cigarette smoke, tattoos, online shopping, garbage cans), the core of this collection can be found in the poet’s relationship to the poems themselves. The task that Weldon asks of these poems is nothing short of transformation. From “Thursday Morning.”
I imagine a taproot growing down my spine,
out my feet, through the porch floor
and deep underground,
rootlets reaching all directions
Imagine remaining here so long
I fade from sight, although
everyone crossing this portal
pauses as they pass through my arms.
Some of the most moving poems center around family and how these relationships also change us through love, fear, loss, or the most basic question: what happens when we die? From “Prompted.”
Only then do I hear them
speak inside my spine,
“shackles are keys,
pain light.”
Through the moment’s bright portal
I see those who came before me
dance with those who came after,
their joy so astonishing
It steeps in me still.
I highly recommend this thoughtful and graceful collection of poems. Prepare to be transported.
To learn more and order a copy: https://lauragraceweldon.com/2021/05/03/portals-my-newest-book/