Book Review by Ryan J Pemeberton
Amid the thick of grief, when the horizon is still entirely out of sight, words of encouragement can sometimes do more harm than good. Same with promises of resolution, no matter how well intentioned. But candid, vulnerable reminders that you’re not the only one here—without attempting to short-circuit one’s grief and healing—can be lifesaving.
An example: watching Marriage Story, the devastating 2019 film by Noah Baumbach, starring Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson, in a dark theatre by myself late one night. In the immediacy of the most devastating personal experience of my life, it could have felt like the worst timing. Instead, it offered the onscreen cathartic release I needed.
Dayshawn Robinson’s slim new poetry collection, LIGHTS SHADOW (Resource Publications, an imprint of Wipf & Stock), offers that kind of comfort in solidarity on the page. Much of the collection reminded this reader of a contemporary work from Qoheleth, author of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes (“Life has no meaning / Fate worse than death itself,” from the poem, SILENT SUFFERING). The narrator in this collection candidly reflects on their own anguished experience without looking away. The experiences here are both existential and personal, local and human. Details are spare, lending a generous universality for the reader to relate and move around in.
As someone whose thoughts are often on grief, and who cares deeply about words (their power and our use), Robinson’s work strikes like lightning. It pierces the darkness and hums with resonance.
A sample, from “UNEXPRESSED SENTENCE”:
Told to hold high Though dying inside Told to stay strong Though weak I may be Told to not cry Though devastated I may be Told to not cry Though devastated I am Taught to be brave Though cowardly I was Taught to fight Though my body break easy Taught to endure Though can’t take it anymore Told hearts heal Taught wounds mend Told broken bones become strong Taught to stand back up…
The series of commands and instructions in this poem (“stay strong,” “to not cry,” “be brave”) contrast directly with the narrator’s experience (“weak I may be,” “devastated I am,” “cowardly I was”). The familiar injunctions feel like an impossibility, like being told to run a marathon on broken legs. Such advice only exacerbates one’s already overwhelming experience of grief. And isn’t that true of navigating the one-two punch of our experience of grief and others’ responses to it? Feeling hollowed out while simultaneously being encouraged to do the impossible—to heal oneself?
The narrator concludes this particular poem not with an optimistic, They were right all along note of resolution, but the truth of their experience: “Though learned, told, and taught / One’s always endlessly Distraught.” (The concluding line’s book-ended capital letters are a pattern throughout this collection and are worth exploring more.)
And here’s the comfort of this work: If that’s where you are, dear reader—Robinson offers—you are not alone. Sometimes, in the thick of grief, it is the only comfort possible.
As a collection, there is a movement here. This reviewer will say nothing of the conclusion, however. Like grief, you’ll have to get there yourself. But you won’t be alone.
Dayshawn Robinson’s book LIGHTS SHADOW is available for purchase in paperback, hardcover, and as an e-book. Cover design by Mike Surber.
Ryan Pemberton is a writer and editor living in Seattle. The author of two books, he works for SNP Communications, identifying leaders doing good work and helping make their truth clear, persuasive, and memorable. Learn more at ryanjpemberton.com.