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4.41 AVERAGE
4.41 AVERAGE
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
All of Andrea Gibson's poetry came in at the library at the same time for me, so I'm going to be low key sprinting through these so I can read them and pass them onto the next person. There are some damn amazing lines here, and already one I think might show up in my wedding vows.
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Many stinging tears were shed in the reading of these poems
inspiring
medium-paced
challenging
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Humbled by her writing and insightful reflections. Truly gifted and wise
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
The first half, no, the first line broke me. the second half sewed me back together.
Not since reading Braiding Sweetgrass has a book tugged at my heartstrings so well.
Not since reading Braiding Sweetgrass has a book tugged at my heartstrings so well.
I'm beside myself. Undone. I came upon this book expecting to engage with queer poetry, but was unexpectedly gutted by the passages about illness, death, and learning to live between the two. Good god...sorry, I just don't have the words.
It's hard to explain without sounding cheesy, but when you've experienced life-threatening illness, your lens becomes unclouded. Things that had little meaning before, now come with an unmistakable ticking sound. A countdown of sorts. You see the temporary of everything. The smell of cut grass, sidewalk chalk drawings, your partner's shoes near the door, the stains of your coffee cup. Insignificant experiences become works of art—windows in time that you're lucky enough to witness. It makes every day...a lot.
It's hard to find people who understand, and even if they do, they likely won't want to discuss it. I can't say I blame them.
But this author gets it. They really get it. It's a terrible, beautiful, and sometimes lonely club to be part of. But it's a gift to encounter someone willing to say, "Yeah, the things you're seeing? I see them too."
It's hard to explain without sounding cheesy, but when you've experienced life-threatening illness, your lens becomes unclouded. Things that had little meaning before, now come with an unmistakable ticking sound. A countdown of sorts. You see the temporary of everything. The smell of cut grass, sidewalk chalk drawings, your partner's shoes near the door, the stains of your coffee cup. Insignificant experiences become works of art—windows in time that you're lucky enough to witness. It makes every day...a lot.
It's hard to find people who understand, and even if they do, they likely won't want to discuss it. I can't say I blame them.
But this author gets it. They really get it. It's a terrible, beautiful, and sometimes lonely club to be part of. But it's a gift to encounter someone willing to say, "Yeah, the things you're seeing? I see them too."
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
sad
fast-paced