In her collection “Incarnate Grace,” poet Moira Linehan explores, questions, and ultimately celebrates her attempt to live in the temple of the present.

After learning she has breast can­cer, the poet struggles to live an exam­ined life. Alienated and estranged from her own body, she turns her cancer into “these binoculars, / this new way of looking,” and uses it as a way of fix­ing herself firmly within the moment. As she travels Ireland and the Pacific Northwest, her busy mind moves from the knot in her breast to the knots in her knitting to the illuminated knots of The Book of Kells to the tossing, knotted surface of the sea; from the margins of her surgery—clean but not ideal—to the margins of illuminated manuscripts. She links the mundane to the mythic, intertwining connections between scripture and nature, storms and loss, winter and light, breast cancer and em­broidery. As she returns to her home on a small pond in Massachusetts, she takes with her the fruits of her travels: incarnate grace of the ordinary.

Vivid and compelling, Incarnate Grace finds beauty in the worst of cir­cumstances and redemption in the fab­ric of daily life