Catherine Chandler
studied modern languages as an undergraduate and holds an M.A. in Education from McGill University, where she teaches Spanish in the Department of Translation Studies. She also manages a government-sponsored project in the Faculty of Arts.
Her poems and translations are published or forthcoming in SPSM&H (Amelia), The Lyric, Iambs & Trochees, Raintown Review, Blue Unicorn, and other journals. Two anthologies will feature her work, one a collection of centos, the other, The Book of Hopes and Dreams, an anthology published in the U.K. for the benefit of Spirit Aid.
Catherine is a trained pianist, organist and self-taught guitarist.
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Assembly
I tried again last night. I brought the box
of photographs up from the basement and
began to organize them, first, by blocks
of seasons, years (it did not go as planned),
and then attempted to divide by themes—
the birthdays, Christmases, first days of school,
vacations, best friends, weddings, soccer teams—
but failed again, the exercise too cruel.
For over thirty years I’d been a wife
and mother. I shall pass this on, I thought,
in albums that will illustrate my life;
yet had to give it up, much too distraught
because I could not range the missing scenes—
the afterwards, befores, and in-betweens.
In Lourdes
I stood upon the little bridge across
the Gave de Pau, whose waters, in the sweep
of April, coursed beneath it. At a loss
for words, I scrutinized the crowd, the cheap
boutiques, the bottles for domestic use,
but nonetheless sought out the holy sites,
my fragile faith a little less diffuse.
I visited the grotto, walked the night's
procession, saw the comfortless Cachot.
I lit some candles, bought some rosary beads,
beamed beatific for a day or so,
then left for Paris on the train that speeds
its passengers back to reality,
my pilgrimage diminished by regrets—
the miracles that were not meant to be,
the plastic, Made-in-China Bernadettes.
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