Trauma survivors will relate to Elle Yoder’s poetry collection as its themes are universal to those who have suffered its pain. The book of 20 poems is divided into two sections, the first, Cocoon, reflecting a life stunted from abuse, the second, Monarch, meant to reflect healing.

Each poem is entitled for blooms, trees and creatures from nature’s abundance. The poetry shows talent, thought and effort. For example, in the poem Vine – about cutting umbilical cord to past pain – the author uses repetition, and repetitive symmetry to show in simple, strong words how trauma weaves through a life.

In Lavender, the poet’s lyricism is highlighted in the lines, “Kaleidoscopic views, Prismatic color hues Shining in as I take it in.” The poem Cotton, with the repeated phrase, “Chupacabra blood-red coming towards me,” displays a unique imagination. Cardinal, mixes fonts to indicate the back and forth in this ambitious, dual-voiced poem.

Unfortunately, the collection overuses blunt, negative imagery and phrases. Daffodil’s words reflect a lyrical longing for innocence – “Daffodil days and wishes well spent the sky and the clouds heaven-sent.” But the poem suffers for the last line, “Now I’ll be waiting here until you croak.”

Even lines in the poem, Garden, the poem that best reflects the book’s theme like, “And every day I feel as if I am the dirt in Eden beneath mortal feet” come across as critical, not redemptive.

The collection’s one- to three- word-per-line format could benefit from more poetic and stylistic devices and the poems could have been tightened to make their message stronger. Still, there is no doubt this book is a sincere attempt to tackle difficult and personal subject matter.

Yoder writes the poems are not autobiographical, however, their epilogue reads at times almost vengeful, being signed, “no love, daughter.” Other poetry books about trauma have used this type of letter, perhaps as catharsis. However, to reflect healing, the book could contain more promise for growth, a promise, despite the author’s worthy effort, that remains unfulfilled.