Review of AGNI 54: Amnesty International Fortieth Anniversary -John Vigliotti

This journal contains a plethora of material. Its full of poems, fiction, non-fiction, interviews, book reviews, and even some cartoons. I liked the wide variety of stuff that's in this book and it gave me a lot to check out. I read over one article by Anthony Arnove entitled "Scenes from Iraq." It talks about journalists traveling throughout war torn Iraq and paints a very vivid scene of the setting. It recollects on the first Gulf War and the politics surrounding it but also tells about recent Iraqi history, including horrid details about Sadam Hussein's mass killings. Amongst the variety in the AGNI I found a poem that really stook out to me. It takes up both sides of a page and is printed vertically instead of horizontally. It's called "Pure Music" and it's by Teresa Cader.

Pure Music

Tonight I am trying to listen, trying to do nothing but hear the leaves, their green wind chime.
In the random rustle of air, I hear a beckoning.

Where will I go if I follow? The hold I have is slender without branches or roots. The music of the universe is no comfort. In the leaves I hear my breath quickening.

In a cellar ten years ago my friend hung herself while her husband slept upstairs.
She left a shrine of letters at her feet, one of them mine, complaint disguised as apology.

If I try to imagine her rapid gasps, I can. To empty the mind is to be less attached.
In the leaves I hear a flute. I want--

Let your breath slow down, let it make a wind tunnel in your throat. Maybe I don't exist
the way others do. When I call to myself, when I let go--

In despair, Moses waited in the cleft of the mountain. He heard God pass by,
What sound could that have been?

Sycamore leaves fall last. Tight-fisted when snow comes early, they claw the ground.
Who could have known she would make a noose for herself?

Air, breath and spirit share one word in Hebrew. It is said the spirit does not need breath
to be alive. Is there intention in the wind chime, or is it the music of nothing?

This poem is simply amazing. I wish I could even come close to mimmicing something of the calibur. Her use of sounds and relating it to the hanging is brillant. The references to the Bible and Moses are also nice touches. I now see why researching while writing poetry pays off so well. The details about the sycamore and the Hebrew make this poem unique and alive. I think the reason I chose it was just because of it's display in the book that caught my eye, as well as the title. The natural music of life is often ignored and now after reading this, I'll listen more. I also loved the breath/wind theme throughout because it relates to all life. The wind makes nature come alive and breathing could have saved her friend, but instead the horrid sound of her feet skimming the floor made a sort of "pure music." It's a gloomy image but a powerful one at that.