{"product_id":"wearing-my-mothers-heart-isbn-9781536230161","title":"Wearing My Mother's Heart","description":"\u003cb\u003ePerformance poet Sophia Thakur offers a powerful new collection touching on intergenerational relationships, finding your voice, and what it means to be a woman.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn her heartfelt second poetry collection, Sophia Thakur takes us on an emotionally charged journey through the lives of women in the past and considers what it means to be a woman today. Exploring topics such as identity, race, politics, mental health, and self-love, she weaves together the voices of a grandmother, mother, and daughter and examines how previous generations have given us the freedom to speak out. Encompassing love from first crush to breakup, as well as the history that comes before us and the brave moments that make us, this collection will resonate with all young women as they approach the joys and pain of adulthood.A sense of being rooted, as well of searching, clearly comes through in this collection, as the author weaves together themes of love, belonging, race, and identity. . . . The evocative and poignant poetry explores the power a mother holds; art, censorship, and exploitation; and God, romance, love, and more. Memory, family, hope, and grief hold the poems together while they strongly excavate sociopolitical themes. Reading them is unsettling—and powerfully beautiful. A masterful, immersive read.\u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDrawing on her Gambian and South Asian heritage, British performance poet Thakur pays tribute to the women in her life in her second poetry collection. . . At the center of the book. . . is the power of self-love and freedom of expression, topics that will especially resonate with young female readers. The format allows them to dip in and out as they wish and savor such stanzas as “A woman has always been \/ what it means to live,” which sums up Thakur’s touching look at modern women.\u003cbr\u003e—Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn poems that span cultures, generations, and locations—and are often written from the perspectives of her Gambian and Southeast Asian relatives—Thakur offers brief yet thoughtful meditations on her ancestors’ histories. . . . Through powerful polyphonic narration, Thakur presents profound exclamations of affection for the ever-deepening nature of mother-daughter relationships, while simultaneously grappling with how violence, imposed assimilation, and exclusion affect Black youth.\u003cbr\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSpoken-word poet and London native Thakur speaks in living memory of tradition, family, and friendship, drawing from reflections on perseverance and resilience. . . . Many of the poems use the imagery of mirrors and reflections to describe ancestral lineage and the art of seeing through the eyes of one’s predecessors. Though not presented as strictly linear, later poems focus on mature love and evoke darker imagery, but the closing works reveal an opening to self-love, empathy, and thankfulness.\u003cbr\u003e—School Library Journal\u003cb\u003eSophia Thakur\u003c\/b\u003e won her first poetry award at eighteen and since then has performed at Glastonbury Festival, the \u003ci\u003eStylist\u003c\/i\u003e Remarkable Women Awards, and international conferences, and has given two TED Talks. She is a youth ambassador for the betterment of young Black girls and has worked with such charities as Cancer Research UK, as well as such brands as MTV, Samsung, and Nike. In 2019, she published her first collection of poems, \u003ci\u003eSomebody Give This Heart a Pen\u003c\/i\u003e, to critical acclaim. She lives in London.\u003cb\u003eIntroduction\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My two grandmothers, while loving God, also each loved men who loved a different God. And in the Gambia, in 1965, if you were born to African, Christian fathers, you weren’t expected to fall in the kind of love that swapped your father’s last name for a Southeast Asian man’s. My grandmothers on both sides were powerless against the pull of their hearts and chose love over tradition, boldly and publicly falling in love with men outside of their religion. To them, love should always come first, before any career. Hearing their stories carves a space for compassion in today’s less forgiving society. My parents are fruit of a new seed planted in our family tree. They were born from the audacity of love.\u003cbr\u003e   It is rare to look at a parent and find the right example and not just the right answers. I’ve never known someone to dedicate themselves to love and care as much as my mum does. At least, not since her own mum, my grandmother. They keep that in common—it’s a religion we are still guided by: this promise to each other.\u003cbr\u003e   And now, after twenty-six years of studying my mother and grandmothers, I realize that my mouth mostly speaks from the abundance of their love. While recognizing the necessity of progress, it’s imperative to understand the stories that the women before us lived, to then understand why they think and reason as they do. Our experiences are vastly different. \u003cbr\u003e Naturally, our opinions on love, race and womanhood clash hugely . . . but not our hearts. Our mothers’ hearts we still share.\u003cbr\u003e   Their hearts have always been more powerful than any rule or rationale, but never more powerful than their religion. How they have worn many hearts at a time and still survived is precisely how they taught me about God. And with God, they taught me power, and with power, they opened my eyes to politics, and with politics, they showed me people . . . and from people, they gave me poetry. I hope that these poems bear that out as they lead you through reflections on family, identity, first love, grief, belief and resolution.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eIt took following their journeys\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e from Africa to London,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e to understand why bravery was never a choice.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e It was their only option, to survive.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e I wear their hearts today, proudly . . .\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e Well,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e at least I try\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eGrandma’s Forbidden Love\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e And if all our love can ever be, is this moment,\u003cbr\u003e eternity sink into a second,\u003cbr\u003e pull our pulses into one.\u003cbr\u003e Kiss me until the war of our histories\u003cbr\u003e wraps a white flag around our tongues\u003cbr\u003e and the rules of tradition\u003cbr\u003e surrender to the rules of love.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eAll We Need Is . . .\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had someone to face life with,\u003cbr\u003e and that felt like all I’d ever need\u003cbr\u003e to survive the hands of this world.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eHalve a Heart, Half a Life\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e How is it possible that you have flooded into my life like this?\u003cbr\u003e Before you, the todays and tomorrows lacked nothing,\u003cbr\u003e the present was pleased, satisfied, whole, I thought.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Yet now I miss,\u003cbr\u003e as if I was just delivered a heart\u003cbr\u003e As if half of my brain has opened for the first time\u003cbr\u003e and I am powerless but to think of how much sweeter\u003cbr\u003e every tomorrow stands to be\u003cbr\u003e now that I know you and know this love.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eEven an Island Needs Two\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For nine months, I filled my body with love\u003cbr\u003e Stretched past my bones and became a home\u003cbr\u003e I planted a heartbeat into the soil\u003cbr\u003e Rained poems and prayers\u003cbr\u003e Absorbed leaves into my bloodstream\u003cbr\u003e Created a forest for you to come from\u003cbr\u003e But you made a country of me,\u003cbr\u003e Pushed entire seas between the plains of my skin\u003cbr\u003e You taught my body to hold you\u003cbr\u003e Stuffed my ears with your fingers and wrote a billion songs to your rhythm\u003cbr\u003e Wrapped me in your tablature\u003cbr\u003e and we heard the world sing of how you wait\u003cbr\u003e to meet us one day.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e You put a new song to my ears.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I learned to listen,\u003cbr\u003e to be    still\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e and I heard love breathe.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I untied my skin into the air\u003cbr\u003e and felt your trust in every passing centimeter.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I carried the earth on my hips\u003cbr\u003e Shared skin with destiny\u003cbr\u003e Saw the world for what it could be\u003cbr\u003e Because if sex could be this, then you are already our miracle.\u003cbr\u003e We held head and hands and spoke with God about you\u003cbr\u003e Asked him for your father’s eyes for three hundred nights\u003cbr\u003e And while mine closed, He watched over you\u003cbr\u003e making room for you to become.\u003cbr\u003e Cracked my life into two\u003cbr\u003e One for me and one for love.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Look at how love can double us\u003cbr\u003e How it reteaches us trust and time\u003cbr\u003e How nine months can remind us\u003cbr\u003e that union is the essence of life . . .\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e May we never forget\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eThe traditions that hold\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e in hope of carrying us through\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e whatever the foreign world may put us through.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eDance—The Safe Return to Yourself\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When we landed,\u003cbr\u003e gold in our mouths,\u003cbr\u003e our tales were cut off with our mother tongue,\u003cbr\u003e but our feet were quick to refind our pulse.\u003cbr\u003e So feel closely, how your body responds\u003cbr\u003e to the sounds of similar souls,\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e and follow your rhythm back home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eIf I Can No Longer Know Home, Let Me Know Heaven\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We landed and our goals,\u003cbr\u003e once Prophecies . . .\u003cbr\u003e shrunk into only dreams.\u003cbr\u003e God had never been more needed,\u003cbr\u003e and so He arrived as a lifeline\u003cbr\u003e that we thread through the darkness\u003cbr\u003e to sew our own skyline to pray to.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e If I can no longer know home,\u003cbr\u003e let me know heaven.","brand":"Candlewick","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302597415141,"sku":"NP9781536230161","price":18.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781536230161.jpg?v=1767743715","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/wearing-my-mothers-heart-isbn-9781536230161","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}