indigo by f.d.soul

bootsinthestars
Mar 20, 2017
3 min read

Let's talk about poetry for a hot second.

School almost ruined poetry for me. It has the tendency to do that for a lot of students, actually. I'm not going to say poetry isn't meant to be studied -- no, I think it's great practice at reading between the lines of what someone's saying, picking up on the grey areas between concrete thoughts and ideas. What I will say is that not all poetry hits people in the same way, and standardized curricula aren't really trying to induce an emotional response.

So when we're young, we read poems from centuries ago, even decades ago; we don't know what they're talking about and we don't really care, to be honest. It's a little boring, and more foreign than whatever math we're talking about. Math is objective. If you teach someone the basics, they'll get to the same answer as you every time -- and if they don't? Someone's wrong.

Poetry is hard. Poetry doesn't like to tell people they're wrong. Poetry is fluid and interpretive and the perspective you bring to it is valid, whether or not it's what the poet originally intended. Most of the time, the problem lies in the poetry that we're forced to read in school. It's objectively Really Hard to teach little kids how to read poetry, so schools use more concrete poems with relatively finite meanings in order to get the job done. These poems are frequently not very fun or breathtakingly profound, but they serve their purpose in academia and that's fine.

I have this idea, though. About what it could be.

Indigo is what it could be.

From the product description on Amazon:

F. D. Soul's first collection of poetry and prose. Written for those who have ever wondered what a heart looks like outside of the human body. This book is a breath. it's that plunge into fear as your heart stops as if perhaps it won't remember how to catch the next beat (but always does). and it's wincing. biting the pillow. laughing even though you can hear your ribs cracking. this book is walking through a Weeping Willow with your fingers outstretched. lips brushed against a forehead. sticking your head out the window just to feel the day in your hair. tears drying against the soft skin beneath your chin. this book is how I save myself.

These poems are short, personal, painful and joyful - the kind of raw inner turmoil that my poetry education noticeably lacked until halfway through my senior year of high school. I can't recommend it enough, especially if you're angsting hard and in need of some literary relief (as I find myself frequently). There's something very profound in reading each poem for the first time, and sometimes I need that gut punch more than others - which is why I haven't been able to bring myself to finish the entire book yet. I'm saving it for the kind of rainy day that needs a little color in its cheeks.

Hold it in your hands, read it with your heart; find some poetry that makes you forget what you thought it had to be.

To find more excerpts from her book and other projects, you can visit f.d.soul on Instagram at featherdownsoul.