Lost In Sight

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Lost in Sight is poetry that excites, soothes, and most of all commands attention. It is a masterful weaving of the concept of what is lost, what never was. If you see the poems on the page, you’ll see that the words, the lines, even the tender or crushing ideas, are broken with gaps like the poems themselves have irregular heartbeats. Rifkah’s canvas stretches from Li Po to Dorothea Lange’s photograph Migrant Mother in which she draws a parallel to Rachel’s lost children/ captured in pictures/ a moment stilled. Beware though, she suggests, being lost In the Museum of Desire. ‘…when you want to add heat to the fire/come here for ideas/ if you get lost there is no one to blame/ we promise nothing.’ The most powerful to me is Prevailing Wind inspired by Olivier Messiaen’s The Quartet for the End of Time. Always there is movement in the poems, through seasons, among trees, through history. Rifkah imagines Neruda in In the Photo Pablo Neruda Holds a Large Shell. ‘he thought he was lost/ now he has the sea/ in his hands.’ And it is whorling.