L.L. Barkat, "author of Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hidden Places," got it into her head to sit outside each day for a year, even if only for a short time. And she got this idea - in the dead of winter. Her timing may have been off - snow and sub-zero temperatures aren't the most conducive conditions for a long-term plan - but she did it, and the result is "InsideOut: Poems."
Divided by seasons, the poems explore the range of human experience - from tragedy (the death of a spouse; a mother and son's last moments aboard an ill-fated airliner) to family and love. They also cover the senses - sight, taste, touch, hearing - in luxuriant, almost sensuous words and concepts.
From "In Your Dream:"
I was the wind
that knocked at the glass, that tipped
the candle that burned the kitchen;
all that remained was a golden fork.
I was the sound
of shattering, of gold
chattering amidst the wild
wild flames.
Or try this untitled poem:
I have heard
they harvest wild rice
by hand,
bending stems
that rise from waters,
knocking them
for chocolate
seed.
(And now say both poems out loud.)
I read "InsideOut" twice, and the second time was almost overwhelming. These are beautiful, luminous poems, and I'm glad Barkat braved those snows. She's given us a gift here, a great gift.