In my favourite poems, the human voice speaks. The artful use of words opens a path, to be sure, with plenty of space for thought, feeling, and mystery. But a human way is opened, even in such works of rigorous form as Shakespeare’s sonnets. And so it is with Richard Sanger’s haunting poem “The Azores.” I felt the journey, the circling, the savouring, the remembrance, even before fate’s final blows closed the door: “you meant to, went to go, wanted to, won’t.”
Despite the human finality of these words, in the larger sense, something is wrung here from death — something that, in a special and limited sense, defeats it. The words will continue to speak.
I was sorry, but not entirely surprised, to read that this poem was published posthumously. It had the mark of first and last things about it.
