We need more poems about birth and about imagining the women of the Bible who get glossed over and simplified. Bornman has a poet’s ear for language and a theologian’s mind for prophetic imagination. A lovely collection.
"yet even now, says the lord, return to me. / I do, or I mean to [...] / so I'll turn, I will / between now and the end of time, / though I know nothing of what it is I ask for. / I think I want to be transformed" (Ash Wednesday, 20).
Some of the most stunning verse I have read this year by far. This collection brought me to tears.
"ask me about smallness, / about gardens, / about music. / ask me how I feel / when I stand near the sea" (Dinah, 49).
Amy makes me feel less alone and gives me hope for a rich, expansive, and loving Christianity suffused with good art. These poems orbit one another like soft planets, odes to metamorphosis and mystery. A heartfelt collection, a growing thing, with "Prayer" by Marie Howe vibes (in the best way).
"has this all only been prologue? / what will you write to me?" (Thirty-Seven Weeks, 98).
Amy uplifts the mundane as something incredibly bountiful and breathes fervent life into the stories of biblical women (midrash!). Music against the silence. Imagination can be an antidote for so much. Can I just rest awhile in these pages?
"I've been inside the mystery / and lived [...] / who will ascend god's holy mountain? / where does my help come from? / is the only answer dancing? is / pure survival the truest prayer? (Birth, 111).
Nearly a year late to review, but here we are, still tethered to these words—rereading, returning. A gift. Deeply grateful for the ARC that travelled to my parents' home in Tennessee and met me in New Orleans and then migrated with me back across the sea to Scotland. <3
I’ll clean your feet with my tears and my hair. I’ll go too far, I’ll say too much. I’ll open the most precious thing I have and pour it all over you in front of everyone, every day for the rest of my life.