The Hour Wasp is riddled with mystical imagery proving it difficult to navigate its free verse form. I often clashed with its stubborn use of hypnagogic imagery.
I’m a messy Christian, the kind that’s mismatched
Flash danced, grooves scratched – too much vintage on blast
Through my questions, I learned that God gave my sister a miracle. He provided my family with one too. He allowed us to know this incredible woman. He gave her the gift of salvation and eventually brought her to Heaven. And He showed me that it was okay to grieve, and that it made me a real woman with real emotions.
All five generations of us alive
in one small bleached, concrete room
filled with prayer beads and penance
alive with the death of things
Not one of us allowed by our full names
At the height of my burnout I emailed a dear writing colleague and confided in her, “I’m burnt out on Christianity. I don’t want to write anything that has to deal with faith anymore.”
Whispers of Rest was alike her previous book in style, approach, and tone. I expected a different avenue of thought but was not terribly disappointed. I felt the book was more of a journal than an illuminating read.
On the outside, there wasn’t a girl closer to God than me. But on the inside, I was full of doubt. I begged for salvation at every altar call, repenting for being broken and traumatized.