Nancy McArthur

Nancy McArthur knows the power of going. She grew up moving. Flown across another ocean every two to three years, jarred from one perspective to another, flung through change on a drastic scale, she grew to believe her identity was static. Maybe it had to be to cope with all the wild shifting. Despite its hit-the-road verve, I Would I Were Thy Bird is more about nesting than anything. About staying still long enough to notice the aches that lay quietly festering while you were on the go. About summoning the courage and patience it takes to wrestle with the tides of your selves, move through internal wreckage, and settle with the kind of stillness wherein you might notice the tenacity of tallgrass.