Editorial Note by Max Wallis
In Grief, Di Slaney gives voice to something we have all probably experienced, but also what can be at times unspeakable. That sodden, shapeshifting weight we carry; wanting nothing more than to be light again, to lift, to escape the gloom of “rooms of dark that smell of wee / and tea.” And yet, it doesn’t vanish. It transforms. It sings.
This line haunted me as we finalised The Aftershock Review. So much of this magazine was built in the aftermath; of collapse, of recovery, of beginning again. And like the poem, it refuses silence. Refuses shame. It sings.
We included Grief in the issue not just for its craft, but because it names the thing so many of us carry, yet rarely know how to voice. It belongs here. As do you.
Di Slaney lives in Nottinghamshire where she runs livestock sanctuary Manor Farm Charitable Trust and independent publisher Candlestick Press. She was the winner of The Plough Poetry Prize 2022. Her poems have been broadcast on BBC Radio 4 and widely published; her collections are available from Valley Press.
