Lucia Perillo is someone I discovered through her essays first, particularly I’ve Heard the Vultures Singing. That collection was huge for me to find at 31 when I was working on my MFA thesis and delving into works by other chronically ill writers. Perillo had more well years than I did, and yet reading her stories of life in nature reminded me of the days when I was able to go for hikes and be in the world unimpeded by my own physical limitations. Still, her illness (MS) took a heavy toll on her, and reading her words across the years demonstrated her evolving relationship with her body and the death she knew would reach her eventually.
In this, her second to last published collection of poems, she grapples with what it means to be in a body, how our human bodies exist in relationship to the animal and natural world, what life can be measured in, and how long we all have to live in health and peace: “wait / long enough and the world caves in,” but even when it does, you can still “[sit], as I do, in the shallows of the lake / where sixty thousand damselflies / were being made a half-inch from my heart.” Lucia Perillo sadly passed away in 2016, but left behind a sizeable and rich body of work that I recommend to anyone who loves nature, is fascinated by humans, or who is trying to reckon with living in a body or what it means to be disabled or chronically ill.