George Kovach’s poems take us into some very dark places. Some of those places are literal, and some are the dark rooms of the heart, the places where, for example, fear-filled childhood memories are stored, or places where the violence of warfare remains etched into one’s being, the kind of places where the darkness just does not go away. At the same time these poems enact a renewable faith in the connections we forge and sustain with one another. That is the real light outside, and in these poems it outlasts the darkness.