I’m generally not one to read poetry, so I wanted to reach beyond my comfort zone and dive into a collection for the first time. The major conceit of Burials, as listed in its premise — “the narrative of those whose voices have been taken away” — also greatly intrigued me. I’m happy to read a work that challenges me and calls to me with murmurs of darker things in store.
Burials (2020)
Written by: Jessica Drake-Thomas
Genre: Poetry
Pages: 73
Publisher: CLASH Books
Release Date: Tuesday, October 6th, 2020
Disclaimer: I received an advanced reader copy of Burials from the author for the purposes of writing a review.
The Premise:
What is buried can return. Those who are dead can still speak. A witch can be burned, but not silenced. When the abattoir is opened, the dead will rise. Burials is the narrative of those whose voices have been taken away — murdered women, witches, ghosts. It’s about speaking one’s truth, and using magic to heal or to banish, even from beyond the grave.
Mild spoilers.
Discussion: When I read Burials I kept thinking about a quote from Mike Flanagan’s Netflix adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House: “Ghosts are guilt. Ghosts are secrets, ghosts are regrets and failings. But most of the time, a ghost is a wish.”
The ghosts in Burials — the spirits of those such as The Black Dahlia, La Voisin, Bella, and the banshee — are all wishes to be heard. You’ve got the voices of witchy women, spurned or neglected lovers, figures in paintings, and to my surprise, when I read some of the poetry, I found my own voice (and ghosts I’d thought I’d put away years ago) dwelling on the pages.
In “The Black Dahlia Ruminates,” (57), the ghost of Elizabeth Short bids, “return my voice.” In “Queen of the Sticks” (1), La Voisin laments that her executioner lover “doesn’t know or see the woman in front of him — only a body” (2). In “Bella and the Wych-Elm” (30), Bella’s ghost pleads, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this. […] I can’t speak for myself […] for who listens to a pile of bones?” (32, 34). The “Banshee” in her grave (8) calls to her lover, “Darling, I think I’m burning from the inside out,” to no response. But when she reawakens as the “dead returned” (9), she screams her name into the void, and “something ancient answered” (10). The ghosts in these poems are all crying out, “hear me, hear me.” They want to be listened to, and to be seen (listening is a type of seeing, after all).
Have you ever felt like you were screaming into the wind? Have you ever felt like a victim, unable to defend yourself? Have you ever been passed over, dismissed, and unheard by others? The poems in Burials made me consider all of these instances in my life as I read them.
I have mentioned elsewhere on Speculative Chic about struggling with mental illness. In my twenties it was at its most debilitating stage, and that also coincided with the first time I had started dating. Being in the throes of bipolar disorder meant a death sentence for my relationships, and one of the things I struggled with the most while dealing with my illness was feeling listened to — by my friends, family, my boyfriends.
The poems in Burials helped me revisit this time. I don’t mean it in a painful way. It just got me contemplating that period of my life, but more importantly, I think these poems made me feel like I wasn’t alone in how I felt at that time, and how I feel about it all now. There are a few poems in the text that allude the speaker breaking down or having an unnamed illness, and those poems touched me deeply.
In this regard, a poem that particularly spoke to me includes “Love Spell Number One” (4). The instructions require you to, among other things, take three strands of your unrequited love’s hair and burn them with a red candle — “As the strand frizzles away, much like his patience for your mental instability and your constant texting, close your eyes” (5). Reader, that line killed me. I absolutely loved it. The rest of the poem is a firecracker, too: “Think of the last thing he said to you. The old jokes. Your demeanor. After your breakdown, things just aren’t the same anymore. It’s not your fault, but… Open your eyes. There should be no ‘but.'”
What a powerhouse of a final line.
Seriously, magic spell or no, “there should be no ‘but'” is a credo I’d like to live by in my relationships. And that’s what these poems are — words to live by embedded in their text.
I think that’s why Burials is such a successful read for me. The poems, with rich language and imagery — “What I feel for you is a gray house in a dream half-remembered, a black bird that flies unseen” (11) — also invite contemplation. I thought about the poems, myself, my life, and my legacy — will my voice go unanswered, unheard? Will I become a ghost, that is, a wish? What can I do while there’s still time?
The poems in Burials deeply affected me and had me thinking about them long after I read them. To me, that’s the greatest gift a work of writing can give you — the stories do not end after you close the book. That’s why I highly recommend you give Burials a try, whether you are an avid reader of poetry or not.
In Conclusion: This lush, lovely volume of poetry, filled with dark and lyrical imagery and murmurings of the supernatural, will stay with you long after you finish reading. This is poetry for anyone who feels they have a voice to reclaim, for those who are haunted by memories of things unsaid, or things spoken but unheard. This is poetry for you and me. I hope when you read it you’ll see yourself in its words; I guarantee there’s a place for you in them.
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