I was repeatedly drawn to the fractures in my life—the gaps between childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, and my relationships with sex, my mother, and my motherland.
In our culture, motherhood is presumably sanctified, and I thought I’d experience social acceptance beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Instead, I felt under constant surveillance and yet utterly invisible....
Visually, prose tells us that we’re moving through time, through narrative or rhetoric, and visually, poetry tells us we’re moving up and down through lyric, feeling.
To me, the difference between invisibility and opacity is the difference between being misread and being granted a quality of privacy that is a fundamental part of being a human among other humans.
Hope stems in the imagination, in our capacity to re-imagine how life on this finite planet could coexist with non-human life and the cycles of shift that give us a cool summer breeze and the hurricane.