​Synopsis
When Reggae recording artist and poet made the journey from her native Jamaica to New York City to do some recording, she decided to pursue a higher education. She had recently become a Christian, and her newfound relationship with God was quickly put to the test as she entered the York College of the City University of New York (CUNY) on a financial shoestring. Each semester ended with her owing the university money. The controller was always quite adamant that until her debt was paid, she couldn’t register for the upcoming semester. She would plead her case, even promising that “My Father is going to give me the money again to pay.” 

Indeed, the Father of us all did come through every time, using various people as the conduit through which His riches flowed so that just in time, her school bills were caught up and she was allowed to register for the next semester. Each time the money came from unexpected places and sometimes from complete strangers. Each time the Lord provided for her needs she tried not to worry, but human nature what it is, she would find herself fretting over where the funds would come from. But … 

“The journey through college allowed me to get closer to God, prove Him over and over and witness first-hand how He cares for each and every one of us. It allowed me to challenge God and watch Him come through for me.” 

A native of Jamaica, Queen Majeeda, is a musician and recording artist, poet, and educator. She has performed her poetry, given lectures, and taught poetry writing workshops in a variety of venues in Jamaica and the United States. She is also a journalist with a B.A. in English and an M.A. in International Relations, and is listed in Who’s Who in Jamaican Arts and Entertainment. She claims Jeremiah 31:3 as her favorite Bible text, and the African Proverb, “No matter how far you've gone down the wrong road, turn back.” 

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www.queenmajeeda.com

I am always curious how people live their faith. Maybe because I sometimes feel disconnected to it, and sometimes I feel so deep within His presence that this yingyang is something I hope others experience...because, who wants to be the only one to have such extremes of faith?
This collection felt like poet Fida Islaih was writing mostly to herself; a journal, if you will, of her grief, her emotions and her assurances that her faith will get her through. This was very personal and from knowing a little about Fida and how guarded she is online, I am very proud of her for her bravery in writing and sharing. There were pieces here that touched me. Pieces that sounded like a friend telling you about life after death, after questions surrounding the 'what-ifs' in our lives. It read like a friend who needed to say these things outloud for both of you to come to terms with your grief, your hurts and everything in between. Well done, my friend. I hope you found healing while writing this collection. 

"...Strengh is more than how many burdens you carry,
it is how you carry them."

​***I received a copy in exchange for an honest review. I am not required to write a positive one. These thoughts and opinions are my own.***

​Fida Islaih is a multicultural Muslim blogger and poet. She writes about her strong love for her faith and country. She shares her experiences with her faith and other life events. She loves to read realistic and historical fiction. Her other loves are chocolate and her two cats.

Podunk Moon is an anthology of mostly non-fiction poetry starting in 2016 and time traveling back through the years ending in 2003. A time capsule of heartache, depression, and the overall state of confusion that comes with being in your twenties. An excerpt of the suspense thriller novel, The Great American, follows after, leaving the reader with a taste of something that is altogether a darkly different breed of beast.

I love how random observations, a line here or a jingle from a commercial stirs within us a type of inspiration. Or perhaps, that's just the way writers are. We take note of the most mundane of circumstances, or hear a conversation somewhere and think, "I need to write that down." 
This anthology felt that way. Snippets of observations in a day, a moment, a heartbreak, and a plane ride. I could imagine Erin Geil with a pen in her hand, and just as a thought pops up, jotting it down on post its, or restaurant napkins, or perhaps she carries a notebook with her at all times. 
This collection spans thirteen years; years capturing those moments of falling in love, falling out of love, depression, and trying to find an identity of sorts in your 20s. A journal of life lived told in poetry. It was beautiful and a reminder of that naivete and ambition that comes in our 20s.....before life hands you experiences that you hope won't turn you bitter in your 30s. Well done. 
Looking forward to more from this poet! 
​
​***I received a copy in exchange for an honest review. I am not required to write a positive one. These thoughts and opinions are my own.***

Erin Geil started creating poetry before she was able to hold a pencil in her hands or make much sense of the alphabet. A very patient and kind mother played secretary to a very insistent four-year-old who wanted to rhyme about the ins and outs of bathroom behavior. She evolved over the next three decades and graduated to more appropriate poetry topics such as sex, depression, and love gone horribly wrong. Currently, she is hard at work finishing up several projects. A prompt book entitled, The 30 Something’s Guide: Abandoning Baggage Through Writing; her prized “child” of eleven years, a suspense thriller novel, The Great American; and finally, a poetry book inspired by brands of wine, entitled, The Wino’s Dirge.

BUY LINK:
https://www.amazon.com/Please-Hear-What-Not-Saying-ebook/dp/B079JPNPRK

Imagine going down a dark tunnel - that's what this book felt like to me, and editor Isabelle Kenyon even alludes to it at the beginning. My journey through this brilliant darkness, cocooning me with words that made me shiver, made me want to run as fast as I can down past the nothingness, the whispered heartaches and brokenness, and past the despair I hear in the poet's voices. It's all around me, these cries for help, these numbing observations and afterthoughts, and casual yet harsh realities of living with a mental illness.
I had to stop several times in my read to look at the contrasting brightness in the daylight. But I know this journey through these words has an ending. There is hope, and light found in tunnels.
Although, I also realize that its not ever that simple. One can run as far away as they can and darkness, death and depression will still cling onto them. 
Some will never find light.
Some will  never know hope. 
And that's probably among one of the reasons that a book such as this exists. So that others can know that they are not alone. So that the person reading this book can better understand someone else living with a mental illness or disorder.
This is a collection filled with multiple individual's first hand accounts, their own thoughts; an ownership of their truths in its ugly, sinister, unwashed lives.
These are real people who understand darkness and passageways to tunnels without light.
These are real images; snapshots of memories or a thought that captures the numbness, the rage, and their illnesses. 
The imagery was heavy.
This collection is heavy.
Still I pressed on, determined to finish, and to read the poet's message hidden between the lines. 
The collection is broken down into 8 different sections and the reader is invited to name each part. As a whole, it's absolutely painfully breathtaking. Dark and gritty in the beginning, and something akin to hope by the end. 
As Kenyon states the hope is that you find light at the end of the tunnel.
But I found much more than that. 
I found that in the darkness, there is bravery to continue, to press on. And towards the end, there is victory to getting up each day. Victory no matter how small. No matter how weathered we look, there is victory that we have endured....or are enduring. So as I carefully set out on this passage way, I listened to the hushed voices and read each line...I truly could hear each person's story and chief among them, a plea to the reader to  'please hear what I'm not saying.'