Linda Neal Reising’s Navigation is a poetry collection that serves as a compass through personal memory, cultural history, and collective grief. Split into four parts, the book traverses everything from Native American identity to coming-of-age nostalgia to haunting reckonings with war and environmental collapse. At its core, this is a book about mapping trauma, tenderness, and survival in lyric form.

What really struck me was the way Reising’s poems blend elegance with grit. In “After Learning That a Woman and Her Baby Were Killed in the Bombing of a Ukrainian Maternity Hospital,” Reising writes of a cardinal’s remains as “feathers so pale a red they verge on pink,” a line that knocked the wind out of me. It’s delicate, yes, but brutal in its imagery. There’s no hiding from sorrow here. She doesn’t preach, she mourns. And in doing so, she lets you mourn too. That balance of beauty and ache shows up again in “Earth Day Lockdown,” where goats and jackals reclaim cities during COVID, as if nature’s revenge is not violent but theatrical. It’s weirdly funny and deeply sad.

I also loved the nostalgic, rough-edged sweetness of her childhood and youth recollections. “Dolly’s Debut” is a standout, so vivid, I felt like I was there in front of that new Zenith TV set, eating popcorn and watching Dolly Parton sparkle onto the screen for the first time. The mix of admiration and longing is infectious. Similarly, “Partial Eclipse” captures the awkward magic of being a seventh-grader with a shoebox solar viewer and a million questions you’re too young to answer. Her ability to make the small moments feel cosmic and vice versa is what gives the book so much punch.

Then there’s the raw nerve of her poems about generational trauma, especially those tied to her Cherokee heritage. “Education of a Sixth-Generation Cherokee Refugee” gutted me. Her grandmother didn’t pass down traditions, only superstitions and fear. That sense of loss, of something beautiful never even getting the chance to take root, hangs heavy. And in “Disappeared” and “The Poetry of Their Names,” Reising doesn’t flinch from the horrors of Native boarding schools and the epidemic of missing Indigenous women. These poems are like open wounds, necessary, unforgettable, hard to read, and harder to ignore.

Navigation is a powerful, heartfelt book for readers who love poetry that tells stories and stirs things up. It’s not airy or academic, but it’s grounded, lyrical, and bold. If you’ve ever felt lost, Reising might not hand you a map, but she’ll sit with you in the wilderness.

Pages: 90 | ISBN : 1639806903