When it feels like I can’t breathe, let alone talk, let alone cry, let alone feel, I turn to poetry. To speak in languages that mean more than the words you see, that mean more to me.
It really did feel like I was holding someone’s heart in my hands, feeling it beat in rhythm with my own. There’s something so intimate about poetry. To me, it’s a combination of every time I’ve said “I’m okay” until I really was, and every time I lost a battle, only to come out again, fighting; always. Other times, it’s explaining the world, being new enough not to know. My world.
Milk and honey is one of the beautiful books I’ve ever read.
Lowercase lettering, black cover, its’ aesthetic is perfect. It only gets better.
My heart woke me
crying last night
how can i help i begged
write the book
Sometimes, our hearts know best.
These are the four parts to the book. They’re so deep. Some of the poems are plainer than others, don’t feel like poetry, more words. But words are poetry, and poetry is words, and who am I to say?
I wish life was like this. Clean, and certain. Like after a certain chapter, there will be the moving on. Lately, my life feels like once chapter with no foreseeable end.
Some of the poems felt like they were written for me.. so powerful. They reminded me why I love words. Yes, they’re used every day, and sometimes they’re ugly, but they can heal too. They’re the extraordinary amongst the crushing usual.
What speaks to you? What makes you feel the most alive? What is that thing? It’s not certain nor is it known. But what is certain; known, is this: never let that thing go. Never let it slip through your grasp.
I bought milk and honey because they second I saw it, I knew it resonated with me, and I’m at a stage in my life where I need that very much. If you look at this book, and feel the same way, I’d suggest you get yourself a copy. It is so lovely that it deserves only the most willing of readers.