Friends! It’s National Poetry Month!
In 2018, I celebrated National Poetry Month by releasing my first poetry collection, Songs in the Gate: Poems from the Borderland of Now and Not Yet.
Three years later, I decided ‘twas high time for a sequel.
Get ready for
Songs in the Garden:
Poems from the Land of Becoming
—available on April 30th!
Why “garden”, you ask? In answer—and to whet your proverbial (poetic?) whistle, I give you the introduction to the book. WATCH THIS SPACE for more sneak peeks and previews over the next two weeks!
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My first poetry collection, Songs in the Gate: Poems from the Borderland of Now and Not Yet, was born out of a series of major life transitions, culminating in a move from North Carolina to a tiny village in upstate New York. After years of lingering on the same threshold—which proved, in fact, to be not one gateway, but a myriad of smaller gates combined—it was shockingly difficult to believe I had arrived. This was partly due to the need for my concept of “arrival” to be redefined (as I describe in the poem “Breathe”), but also for a hitherto unrealized need to re-learn living. My life-as-I-knew-it had been uprooted, trimmed of many boughs I had once thought vitally fruitful, and replanted—and, suddenly, I had an opportunity to grow.
I had to learn afresh how to simply . . . be.
’Twas a long road, and an ongoing one. It is hard for a soul who has danced so long to the world’s toxic, heartless, productivity-driven tune to break free. It takes time to heal, and even more time to learn a whole new set of quieter rhythms.
Thankfully, the Hudson Valley is a beautiful place to convalesce.
A veritable garden of delights in any season, this region has stolen my heart, bewitched my senses, and provided a worthy setting for the richest growth period of my life thus far. Here, I have learned to put down roots and soak up truth—instead of digging frantically, that I may hoard it. Here, I have spread my soul’s arms to the sun and let beauty bloom from them of its own accord—instead of straining to force more blossoms than in previous years (or than those around me). Here, I have embraced the lessons and rewards of each season—instead of rushing through autumn’s labor or winter’s recovery to attain spring’s bounty and summer’s ease.
Here, I am learning—again, and always—to rest; and, with more consistency than ever before, I have chronicled the journey through poetry. As with Songs in the Gate, these poems follow a loosely chronological thread, though I have rearranged some in order to shape the narrative.
Thank you for joining me in the garden, friends.
May you find your own recovering, “becoming” soul along these paths.
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