SOMEBODY GIVE THIS HEART A PEN

British performance artist Thakur reflects on coming-of-age and coming into one’s own.

Beginning quietly, a prologue of sorts describes the process of a heart—to grow, to wait, to break, to grow again—stages echoed by the sections of the book. In “Grow,” free-form poems are a deep breath in, calling for introspection, expansion, and loving recognition of self: “Pull your voice from your toes up / Let it grab and hold onto your fear / Open your mouth and drag it out.” In “Wait,” that breath is held, exploring the struggle for survival, the hush of uncertainty, and the painful onset of love: “Do you listen to the mind or the heart / to get the right thing done?” The exhale that comes in “Break” is the one that follows a swift fist; an overflow of exhausted stanzas and pained lines rush in relief from broken barriers of doubt and self-effacement: “Be with yourself for a moment. / Be yourself for a moment.” And at last, in “Grow Again” comes a new breath, new steps forward: “When the world denies you / Find your power / And write.” The torrent of Thakur’s spoken word poetry storms the page to flow, feed, and flood in this thunderous debut with broad reader appeal. Thakur, who is of Indian, Sri Lankan, and Gambian descent, offers a love letter to Black and brown readers that offers, at once, the intimacy of the self exposed and the universal power of story shared.

A deluge of verse to dance in.