Editor's Letter

I put a great deal of effort in writing the editor’s letters for the first three issues, and I initially thought I’d do the same here. My long-windedness coupled with my constant worry has become something of a joke—a kind one, of course—among those who know me best, and for good reason. So I’ve decided for this fourth issue to keep it short. Whatever worry and whatever joy I might express here are evident in this issue, anyway.  Sometimes it’s better to borrow, to trust, to embrace, to echo.

With that in mind, this issue is dedicated to the memory of Maya Angelou. Her poem “Alone” has stayed close to me since her passing, and the following lines seem particularly fitting for this moment and all moments:

            Now if you listen closely
            I’ll tell you what I know
            Storm clouds are gathering
            The wind is gonna blow
            The race of man is suffering
            And I can hear the moan,
            ‘Cause nobody,
            But nobody
            Can make it out here alone.

Flycatcher is only a small part of a large group—encouragingly large, large beyond our knowing—of people who care, of people who, yes, might be deeply worried, but who respond to such worry not by celebrating bombs and guns, not by building spikes on underpasses to prevent homeless people from sleeping there, not by uttering words without empathy or thought of people they might hurt, but with compassion, restoration, and creativity.

If there’s anything we’re trying to say in this issue or any other, it’s what Dr. Angelou and so many others have already said: We can’t make it out here alone.

Thankfully, we’re not alone.

Christopher Martin
Founding Editor, Flycatcher
Acworth, Georgia
June 19, 2014



Artwork on this page:
Valentine for a cougar
31.5 x 74" oil on wood, 2005
Irene Hardwicke Olivieri

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