With These Flowers: A Review of “Unearth [The Flowers]”

In her debut collection, Unearth [The Flowers], Thea Matthews offers to the world a botanical garden in which each flower shines with the vision of healing. Grappling with issues such as child abuse, sexual assault, and racism in the United States, Matthews channels a voice which sounds both distinctly individual, yet powerfully communal through every poem.

Unearth [The Flowers] by Thea Matthews. Red Light Lit Press, 2020. 102 pages. $16.

This collection is especially unique in its construction. Broken into two sections (“Annual” and “Perennial”), Matthews walks the reader through this botanical garden, moving from one flower to another. Each poem is given the name of a flower, and each one blossoms with a unique story. One flower represents oppression, another represents beauty, and we see each facet of Black womanhood through every poem. Though each poem stands out on its own, they all seem to echo one another. Unearth [The Flowers] is not a yard of wildflowers bursting randomly; it’s a curated garden full of flowers that compliment and juxtapose one another. And the deeper we walk with Matthews through her garden, the deeper connected we become to the voice in her poems.

In the “Perennial” section, her poem “Gardenia | Gardenia jasminoides” speaks to the overall concerns of the collection. In the glossary in the back of the collection, Matthews defines what each flower represents. The gardenia is emblematic of trust, renewal, and protection. Those ideas come through, as the poem is written as an address to the reader. The speaker commands the reader:

Speak
rather than resist
refine your lungs        purify
the blood circulating the sun
inhale the scent of my evergreen

This poem is part command, part incantation. The natural elements in the poem, such as “blood,” “sun,” “evergreen,” and “pollen” are almost ingredients for a renewal spell. The gardenia is not only a symbol of renewal, but becomes part of the incantation. Similarly, in the same section, the poem “Dandelion | Taraxacum erythrospermum” arrives to conjure a recipe for healing. While this poem is more narrative than instructional, it still bears the same magic.

Narratively, this poem begins with the speaker observing a girl who “loved dancing with wind / blowing wishes on Dandelions.” While the speaker builds girlhood and hope in the following lines, the stanza ends with the image of “her father’s crack pipe.” After that, violence follows, and the speaker watches the girl die. The speaker finds her “under the debris / of collapsed neighborhood / buildings,” and the speaker uses this moment to open up a critique on gentrification

buildings that once housed
first-generation children
the cooking of tortillas tamales frijoles
but     are now replaced
with white rice and Asian dishes
and great white sharks with porcelain white smiles.

This moment also intersects culture and shows how different cultures fit into certain classes. After, the speaker brings the girl back to life, and “the battles to live thaw,” implying that the girl has survived. By the end of the poem, the girl herself becomes “the moon of a Dandelion.” Though the dandelion itself serves as a symbol of survival and healing, it also is part of a recipe towards those ideas. With each flower, the speaker is simultaneously giving life to a multitude of experiences, but also develops an incantation of her own.

Towards the end of the collection, in the “Annual” section, the poem “Amaranth | Amaranthus” delivers everything which the collection strives to accomplish. This flower in particular represents immortality, and this poem makes it very clear that the speaker intends on living like this flower. In fact, the flower and the speaker become one in this poem, more so than most of the other poems. 

Liberty is not given
lies in the source the roots the route
of my existence.

After soil and sun slowly began draining
my imperiousness       I died
an unknown dictator was reborn a slave

and died again     the irradiance
rinses my veins
revitalizes each petal.
Today        I      live      wild!

Not only does this poem join the flower to the speaker, and the speaker to the flower, but delivers the intersection of the personal and political. While the collection does in fact intersect the personal and political, this poem is a great example of Matthews doing so. As mentioned before, Matthews skillfully creates a speaker whose voice resonates both individually and communally. Though the “I” can be understood as distinctly belonging to the speaker, it can also be understood as an incantation that everyone can say themselves; as if the voice of the speaker belongs to everyone outside of the collection. 

I found this collection incredibly relevant in today’s world. In 2020, the consequences of systemic racism are unignorable. Protests have burst across the nation, thousands of Americans are vocalizing their dissent, and many are committed to educating one another so that we can all check our privilege and work towards a better world for us all. In Matthews’ collection, she addresses generational trauma from enslaved African-Americans. She reaches back in time to the pain of many Black American ancestors and adds to the story of trauma. The trauma of Black people in the United States didn’t heal after slavery was abolished; we’ve been watching police assault Black people in the streets for decades. We’ve been allowing the prison industrial complex to tear apart Black homes, and poverty to diminish opportunities for Black children. Matthews brings these issues of racial injustice and marginalization forward in her collection. Not only does she make generational and collective trauma a part of her work, but she also advocates for collective and individual healing, and there are moments in her poems in which she lets Black joy shine through. The speaker says, in the penultimate poem “Azalea | Rhododendron”: “I fought to live / now I live to thrive.”

Matthews brings forth a collection that has social and political merit. Each poem is intentional in its form and language, and each flower serves a special purpose in the grand garden she brings us to. In a world of injustice and oppression, Matthews walks us through her botanical garden and asks us to unearth truth from them. She wants us to see darkness, but she wants us to see light, too. And this collection urges us towards the question of: What do we do now with all this light? What do we do with these flowers?