Emotion, raw and unadorned, is woven through the poems of Christianne
Balk's The Holding Hours. Part I explores the subtle and surprising
transformations that come from caring for her young, neurologically
injured daughter. Insights unfold in metaphor and persona below the
surface of an exquisitely observed life.
Gazing through the lens of other lives challenged by disability and
illness, including those of John Muir and the 16th-century Saint
Germaine Cousin, these poems place personal experience in the context of
pastoral poetic traditions, disability studies, and the history of
political disruption.
Balk anchors these meditations within the landscape of the Pacific
Northwest. She examines her (and our) relationship with nature--the moon
snail, the azalea, snow geese, the dog rose--sing the precise and
unsentimental language of a trained naturalist. The sounds and images
evoked reveal a stunning artistry--a mediation between self and the
world and a celebration of the beauty and fragility of life and the
anticipation of rebirth.