nayyirah waheed

These poems were full of emotion. Waheed writes from the perspective of an African-American woman, and her poetry is full of pain and confusion at her lost heritage and questions of identity, but also startling beauty and love. I started bookmarking all the poems that spoke to me in some fashion and ended up with almost 3/4 of the poems marked.

Here are some of the ones that really made go oof:

what
massacre
happens to my son
between
him
living within my skin.
drinking my cells.
my water.
my show more organs.
and
his soft psyche turning cruel.
does he not remember
he
is half woman.
— from

if
we.
are
with child.
and
you believe that fatherhood
begins
when my body pours a baby into your hands.
not before.
you do not deserve this child.
you are a coward.
— you are a father the moment you enter me

And finally, this seems very timely:
you broke the ocean in
half to be here.
only to meet nothing that wants you.
— immigrant show less

I loved salt., so maybe I was expecting too much from nejma. There were some brilliant turns of phrases, and I highlighted numerous poems that I liked. But mostly, I appreciated the language. There were a few that made me catch my breath and punched me in the gut, but overall, this didn't really come together for me. I appreciated what Waheed was attempting, and I appreciated the artistry.

The poems I did connect with though...oof. There was a poem about how education eats away at the show more identity of people of color, learning about writers who are white, white, white. That one made me suck in my breath because looking back, it's so true and I never even saw it

The dedication deserves an extra star by itself. It nearly made me cry.

to you.
my people. of color.
you are an altar of stars.
remember this.
always.
do not forget this.

I am an altar of stars. Oh, my heart. If nothing else, I smile because I am altar of stars. show less

I'm not usually a poetry kind of person. I like my reading to be lush, full of paragraphs and characters and action that I can sink into; the joy I get from reading comes from sinking into the narrator's perspective, experiencing the world (often a wholly different world than the one I live in) through their eyes.

Poetry is both more and less of an experience than reading prose is; on one hand it doesn't build an entire world around you, full of people, characters, and action, but on the show more other hand it draws you into deep emotional experiences and truths and vague puzzles that draw out your mind into considering the world from different perspectives. It it less of a physical experience, and more of a mental and emotional one. This is what salt. by nayyirah waheed is.

I would not have chosen to read this book on my own; I needed a good friend to assign it as homework for the podcast that we co-host to nudge me into reading it. Like I said, I'm not usually a poetry person.

The first time I read this, I blasted through it in a lunch break at work; the second time I cracked the book on a Saturday and spent the whole afternoon with it, taking my time, reading a poem and pausing to really think it through and turn it around in my brain, examine it from all it's different sides. That's how this book is best enjoyed; slowly, with time to ponder what the words inside mean to you and your outlook on the world.

The words in this book are spare, but they contain more truth than I would have thought possible in so few words. I learned a lot from this book, both about experiences that people have had that I will never experience, that I had never truly thought of before this book, and about experiences that are deeply, personally meaningful for me. I highly recommend that you give this book a shot, even if poetry isn't your thing. It will break you down, and build you back up, and teach you a lot that you never expected to know.

This review originally appeared on my blog. show less

leaving
doesn't mean that
you've left

-Nayyirah Waheed (Salt.)

There is so much of unadulterated heart in Salt. that it actually feels like a blood filled fist sized organ pumping pain in the pages of this collection. Nayyirah Waheed writes fluidly as if she is not writing in any particular language but poetry itself is a language she chose to express her thoughts on various topics. An Exquisite Read...