Grief runs through these poems, most beginning with an epigraph from a diary entry by Emily Brontë, whose first loss was her mother when she was just three years old. We are in an interior world in this sequence, thoughts and feelings pouring through these elegant poems, but always anchored in the body, in the physical. It's in the daily round of kneading the bread that anger is transferred from body to dough till both are transformed; it's in the 'intricate feathery leaflets/sweet chrysanthemum-like scent' of yarrow that refuge is experienced; it's in the imagination of an 'island's sun' that dark thoughts ('a crepe-winged crow') find respite. The poems move between the quiet daily life of a woman who loses those she loves over and over again and Emily Brontë as an extraordinary writer. And in that movement, emotions so earth-shattering, so veined with yearning, so unspeakable in their grief that they challenge death itself, find their form. Liliana Pasterska brings to life a soaring spirit in lucid images that leave us in awe.
