Sudden Denouement Publishing Proudly Announces the Release of Rachel Finch’s A Sparrow Stirs its Wings

 

front cover

Sudden Denouement Publishing proudly announces the release of Rachel Finch’s stunning book of poetry, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings. Finch is the powerhouse behind the Bruised But Not Broken community on Facebook, which provides support and healing for trauma survivors. She is a symbol of hope and light throughout the world.
“Every now and then, when the world seems to be rocked in chaos and people are screaming without listening – vile words and cries for help climbing on top of and over each other – a single voice stands out, and that voice is pure in its truth and stunning in its wisdom.

Rachel Finch, and her debut book, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings, is that voice right now. Turning her heartbreaking abuse into heart-wrenching prose, Finch writes her truth and gives her strength to every unnamed victim turned survivor.”   Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl

“A mark of a great poet Is the ability to make emotional connection with their audience, and Rachel Finch does exactly that.” Faye Brown, Black Orchid Poetry

Now Available on Amazon.com

Rachel

Rachel is a UK based writer that originally started using poetry as a way to accurately express herself after a number of traumatic experiences in her young life. She is the founder of the online community Bruised But Not Broken which was started with the purpose to raise awareness of abuse and trauma and to provide a place of comfort and support throughout the healing process. She firmly believes that it was with the support of this community that she was able to recover from sexual abuse. Rachel is mother to four young children and dedicates her time to her family and to guiding others on their own healing journey.

You can find Rachel on Facebook and WordPress at Bruised But Not Broken. She is also a Regular Contributor at Blood Into Ink.

Excerpt: A Room So Still and Quiet It Hurts/Nathan McCool

You know when I’m there, after all the blood,

after all my ghost begin to break up and

dissipate like early morning radio chatter,

after the loss

of every god damn thing I’ve ever loved,

I can tell you that I earned the cognizance

that this was never a room.

Rooms have an exit, but there is no re-entry

into what my life used to be.

It’s a black hole, and on the other side

there is a universe of all dead bodies.

So if I dissect myself,

if I show you all my organs that could never

have managed to hold this cancer,

if I do it here at the altar of all my great

rewards…

I just want you to know I’ve reached the

event horizon.

But here I do not struggle, I strive. I still

yearn to be a good man. Wish that my

heart would become supermassive,

and strong enough to maybe release

one singular ray of light into all this space.

Set one lone kite free of the gravity.

 

If I fall through the hole and I’m never seen again,

I want you to remember I wasn’t a coward.

I was the thing that withstood longer than

all else.

Because nothing can be here if it still

has a world to belong to.

And if you don’t understand that, in a way

I hope you never do.

But if you never saw my light, if I gave in

before it could break through

I’m sorry.

It’s not because I didn’t try.

So live or die,

Be free or killed by this monster of my mind,

I did the very best that I could.

Excerpt: A Room So Still and Quiet It Hurts/Warped Kites- Aakriti Kuntal

Long hands, circumcision of thought, 

Flailing flesh, fish sucking the rotten sea

The window breast is now red from approach 

We hang there, we do

the captivity of bleached air is like nothing else

the death sentence of genes

Godless children of a different race

Our hearts are split and our brains feverish

slowly descending, soaked head to toe

into songs that contain only air

I twist the lock, your twisted face, a warped kite

Floating across ceilings,

You have decided to spread

a smile wide as the day, light up the dim structure of your face

Like blow torches growing mad above the taste of ashes

You have decided to smile

this one last time

And the ceiling watches,

its silence repulsive 

And the walls judge,

their jabber exhausting

Men like to slaughter what they don’t understand 

Common cold doesn’t dictate cancer

And neither mood nor perspective is the predecessor of mental sickness

The floor watches,

stained in a lovely red

The only living thing now 

is you

and you, you bleed 

Upwards into a cerulean sky