“oxygen Everything needs it: bone, muscles, and even, while it calls the earth its home, the soul. So the merciful, noisy machine stands in our house working away in its lung-like voice. I he...”
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In this collection of 43 new poems the author grapples with grief at the death of her beloved partner of over forty years. She strives to experience sorrow as a path to spiritual progress, grief as part of loving and not it end. She also chronicles for the first time her discovery of faith, without abandoning the love of the physical world that has been a hallmark of her work for four decades.
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Mary Oliver
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“oxygen Everything needs it: bone, muscles, and even, while it calls the earth its home, the soul. So the merciful, noisy machine stands in our house working away in its lung-like voice. I he...”
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“The Uses Of Sorrow (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.”
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