Annie Finch’s poetry is a pure tone that calls us home to the first impulse of poetry. We link to mystery. We lift off.
—Joy Harjo
“Annie Finch’s spellbinding poems give voice to the earth-centered spirituality of our era. Finch is a renowned poetry witch who skillfully draws on the secrets of poetic rhythm and craft to honor the sacredness of the natural world. Earth Days gathers her poems over five decades around the elements of fire (flame, sun, stars, heat, passion); air (moon, wind, light, wisdom); earth (mud, roots, mountain, tree, strength); water (ocean, river, rain, tears, heart); and matrix (intuition, mystery, ritual, spirit). Finch’s poems enchant the ear as well as the mind, combining her virtuosic use of poetic craft with a rhapsodic, transformative, and feminist postmodern sensibility.” —Nirala series
Annie Finch
Homebirth
For Vincent
It seemed as if a door came calling, in a voice as old as carols, telling lies as old as candles, in words that were all about some afternoons, lost on a child, that could have been simple but were lost, when I was just a child.
There was a day and then a dream that I went through, and a cathedral whose tall choir prayed a singing message through the nave until I heard a forest there (though far outside, the trees were bare)
The Door
It seemed as if a door came calling, in a voice as old as carols, telling lies as old as candles, in words that were all about some afternoons, lost on a child, that could have been simple but were lost, when I was just a child.
There was a day and then a dream that I went through, and a cathedral whose tall choir prayeda singing message through the nave until I heard a forest there (though far outside, the trees were bare)
Earth Goddess and Sky God
You haven’t formed me. I’m a monster still. Then give me your body. Give it to me in rain. Look up and fill me. I am too dark to stain. You haven’t held me. I hold apart my will Spread dryness through me. I have a night to fill in high heat-speckled waves, apart from where I will come down. I have nothing to share with breath. I will give it back. There is one to kill, one to renew, and one to persuade to weep. My night holds everything except for sleep.
Yay Annie! I look forward to reading your new book!