How do you live life to the fullest when you’re diagnosed with a chronic illness in your twenties? In this grief-inspired poetry chapbook, Kelly Esparza chronicles her experience with living with a chronic illness by cycling through what it means to grieve over a diagnosis and find self-acceptance in a completely life-altering experience.
From debilitating fatigue to joint pain that makes one feel elderly, how does one cope over the loss of what used to be? Kelly strives to show the difficulties of living with a chronic illness, but as with all her poetry, she also finds the beauty and the hope to keep moving on and make the most of what she lives with on a daily basis. Her life may have changed, but she has come out stronger than ever.
How do you live life to the fullest when you’re diagnosed with a chronic illness in your twenties? In this grief-inspired poetry chapbook, Kelly Esparza chronicles her experience with living with a chronic illness by cycling through what it means to grieve over a diagnosis and find self-acceptance in a completely life-altering experience.
From debilitating fatigue to joint pain that makes one feel elderly, how does one cope over the loss of what used to be? Kelly strives to show the difficulties of living with a chronic illness, but as with all her poetry, she also finds the beauty and the hope to keep moving on and make the most of what she lives with on a daily basis. Her life may have changed, but she has come out stronger than ever.
Kelly Esparza's powerful new chapbook A Spoonie's Guide to Self-Acceptance is a deeply moving account of life with lupus. Though perhaps not as ambitious at it could have been in terms of poetic craft, Esparza's collection chronicles, confesses, advocates, and empowers with an emotional precision that renders the lived experience of a "spoonie" with clarity.
These are poems that demonstrate powerful reflection of both the inner self and the physical body living with chronic illness. In moments of the collection, Esparza comments upon the feeling that mind and body are often at odds in the context of lupus. In "Host," she writes, "My body and I used to be one and the same,/ but how do I connect with a body that does more harm than good?" Indeed, much of the chapbook takes up questions of identity as lupus challenges every aspect of the speaker's orientation of self to the world around as well as within. But ultimately, the poems turn toward pride, toward empowerment. This is a collection that is ultimately hopeful and energizing, presumably to the author herself, but also to the reader who may be experiencing related challenges in living with their own chronic illness. There is resilience and perseverance in Esparza's poetry. She not only illustrates these things but guides the reader in such encouraging directions.
Esparza could have taken greater risks formally and stylistically with this collection. The plainspoken diction and tight control of accessible lines undoubtedly contribute to the beautiful articulation of life with lupus. But as a collection so invested in the physical experience, in the embodiment of pain and grief and strength, this might have been an opportunity to experiment with the physical body of the poem on the page. The typed lines and white space might have engaged in more dynamic visual conversations. The grammatical structures of sentences might have exhibited greater strain, break, or subversion of the conversational in order to heighten some of the emotional registers of poems. But the overall effect of a sequence of conventionally assembled, yet starkly honest free verse remains stunning.
In short, while A Spoonie's Guide to Self-Acceptance might have taken advantage of an opportunity to engage in greater experimentation with craft, the result of Esparza's powerful writing is nothing short of brilliant. This poet has shared with her readers something profoundly personal and impressive in its raw honesty.