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Anester Johnson
Goodreads Author
Born
in Saint Kitts and Nevis
Member Since
June 2026
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The Ark of Vulnerability: The Anthology of My Most Profound Words
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The Ark's Hymnals, Volume II
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Anester’s Recent Updates
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Anester Johnson
and
1 other person
liked
Sherkhia Andrew's review
of
The Ark of Vulnerability: The Anthology of My Most Profound Words:
"This book was written with so much soul and beauty I felt as if I was in an entirely different universe. One where everyone and everything was understood and where love was the most powerful feeling we could feel. Anester is such a profoundly express"
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Anester Johnson
liked
Shaquil Flavius's review
of
The Ark of Vulnerability: The Anthology of My Most Profound Words:
"Loved the book and the art that was portrayed in it. Some poems were really relatable and the way she expressed and poured so much character and feelings into the pieces are really commendable. It really was a tribute to our hearts."
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Anester Johnson
liked
R.J.'s review
of
The Ark of Vulnerability: The Anthology of My Most Profound Words:
"The Ark of Vulnerability is a beautiful and hopeful work of poetry. So often, I encounter poetry with focus on heartbreak and betrayal, so it was incredibly refreshing to read beautiful words that focus on faith, hope, and love. I highlighted many ve"
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Anester Johnson
is now following
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Anester Johnson
rated a book it was amazing
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Anester Johnson
is now following Neide Gomes's reviews
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Anester Johnson
shared
a
quote
“My husband sends me hummingbirds
from his eyes. Only he and I know he’s going blind. For him, I don’t get old. His fingers, chapped from gardening, sand my skin, bring out the grain he cannot see. I am made beautiful by loss. The moon, too, grows more far-sighted. Its light compliments: the smallest birds don’t disagree. There’s a sweetness that comes from accepting what I am, not a mountain, not a river, not a tree.” Lorna Crozier |
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“My husband sends me hummingbirds
from his eyes. Only he and I know
he’s going blind. For him, I don’t get old.
His fingers, chapped from gardening, sand my skin,
bring out the grain he cannot see.
I am made beautiful by loss. The moon, too,
grows more far-sighted. Its light compliments:
the smallest birds don’t disagree. There’s a sweetness
that comes from accepting what I am,
not a mountain, not a river, not a tree.”
―
from his eyes. Only he and I know
he’s going blind. For him, I don’t get old.
His fingers, chapped from gardening, sand my skin,
bring out the grain he cannot see.
I am made beautiful by loss. The moon, too,
grows more far-sighted. Its light compliments:
the smallest birds don’t disagree. There’s a sweetness
that comes from accepting what I am,
not a mountain, not a river, not a tree.”
―