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In The Glass is Already Broken, a mother navigates the decades-old loss of her son: "I keep trying to feel who I was before you / died. Listen to music I listened to then, Beatles, / The Band, Rolling Stones," she insists, before admitting "I can't / put the snake's skin back around its flesh, / the snow back into the sky." But what she can do is its own wonder: she shatters open a life centered on marriage and motherhood to reclaim her primal identity underneath. She revisits her choices. These poems grieve but they also reckon, bargain, riddle and joke, lust and croon, with every mode accented by a fine-hewed lineation. Reading these poems, and re-reading them, wrecked me in the best possible way.-Sandra Beasley, author of Made to Explode About the AuthorSharon Charde has six published poetry collections, taught incarcerated girls poetry for sixteen years, and wrote a memoir about that work, "I Am Not a Juvenile Delinquent," published by Mango in June 2020. She has received many awards for her poetry, seven Pushcart nominations and numerous fellowships, among them Yaddo, Ucross and MacDowell. A retired psychotherapist, she lives in Northwest Connecticut with her husband of fifty-seven years.
The poems in Unhinged open wide the doors between love and loss, past and present, life and death. Charde teaches us that to study any subject is to reckon with its opposite: how she can choose the commitment of marriage, while wanting "to keep moving"; how she honors the loss of her son, a grief that still shouts "like the emperor peonies/ burning red in [her] garden," while also wanting "to lasso [her] life to a more merciful anchor"; how she faces her own mortality, thanking death for giving her "singularity, a kind of dignity" exactly when she is "learning to love the fire" of life. Charde's honesty is disarming: here, grief is not melodramatic but intimate-these poems teach us that to let grief open us we must let it lead us beyond what›s static, standard, or finite. Only then can we claim the hard-earned understanding that "the life [we] have is/ the one worth living in. Sharon Charde is not only a poet. A family therapist, a former shaman-in-training, a volunteer writing teacher to delinquent girls in a residential treatment facility, a minimally competent carpenter and devoted yoga practitioner, she is a veteran of fifty-five years of marriage to the same man. Her life as wife, mother and grandmother informs her poems as well as a memoir that will come out next year. She has been published widely in literary journals, including Poet Lore, Upstreet, Rattle, Calyx and Ping Pong, and has one full-length poetry collection, Branch In His Hand, as well as four prize-winning chapbooks and many award-winning poems. Four Trees From Ponte Sisto, an hour-long radio drama shaped from her poems was broadcast by the BBC in 2012. She currently continues to teach the women's writing retreats she developed twenty-five years ago and has been leading ever since. Charde has been awarded fellowships to The Corporation Of Yaddo, The MacDowell Colony, Virginia Center For The Creative Arts and Vermont Studio Center.
In Branch in His Hand, a boy falls to his death and a mother sings a requiem in poems. The reader will not ever forget the Italy that he loved, or the wall from which he fell. Charde takes us to Italy, to the wall: A fissure in the wall like / a wound . . . and to the sea, in search of healing. In these brutally honest, beautiful poems, we face the death of one who is dearly loved, and recognize, as the poet says, that grief is at least part of what you / will grow into.—Pat Schneider, author, Writing Alone and With Others, Oxford University Press, and founder, Amherst Writers & Artists.
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