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Holding Her

Nights in the darkroom, I hoarded
my daughter’s gestures,
the way she straddled a picnic bench
or lifted one hand as if to stroke
silk, the softest feathers.
It was her last year at home.
I’d worked to capture everything,
labeled the boxes of negatives—
camping, prom dress, Christmas.

Stirring prints beneath an amber light,
I waited for my girl’s face to surface, 
faint at first on the soaked paper,
pale as a night-blooming flower.
Time, which to a photographer
is both tool and the thing transcended,
worked against me too. She would go.
Even in that sealed room,
I felt the season turn. 

   -Atlanta Review, 2007 

-- Sharon Fain
Did You Feel That Wind?

Did you feel that wind?
It’s not just any wind

Some winds come from off the sea
Some howl through the mountains
Some wend their way deep in the canyons
All fade and disappear

But not this wind

Did you feel that wind?
A wind born many years ago
A wind of forty years of dreams,
Adventures and A New Hope

Did you feel that wind?
It's the wind of friends
Their chairs now empty on the stage
They’ve worked their final shot
Heaven’s credits roll with all their names
They will never be forgot

Did you feel that wind?
It's the Force that lives within our hearts
A wind that blows forever

-- John Krajewski