‘This book presents a young person seeing the world with fresh yet discerning eyes. In Stages, Suubi is seeking centredness in an unstable world. From personal journeys throughout and between continents, Suubi asserts the freedom to be themselves, on their own terms. stages is a thoughtful, rigorous, and heartfelt collection of a loving voice,’ writes Tracie Morris, author of human/nature.
The title ‘stages’ is in lowercase lettering. This style by poet Tramaine Suubi belongs to a canon of poets such as Lucille Clifton and Bell Hooks, to name but two, who intentionally use or used all lowercase letters (a technique known as decapitalisation or lowercaseness) to create visual flow, convey humility, challenge grammatical rules, or disrupt poetic traditions. Suubi, despite the non-disruptive meaning of her name, is no different. Her words may not come screaming from the tops of their commonplace rendering, but they do carry. So loud are they that even the most soundproof reader will be knocked for a loop by their visceral passion. To put a healthy spin on Shakespeare, they are all sound and fury; signifying everything.
Under the section ‘yellow dwarf’, the poem ‘nostalgia’ carries an audible fragrance related to the distinct scent of familiarity.
‘release/all the bull/andthe shit, making/the best mistakes/of this one lie, smoked/screams show it all, such/decadence in wildly/heated choices, the joyful/sorrows of this decade, the stale/nights,the rotten days/they all absorb and refract/the muchness of this roaring/decade, the yearning lances/through us all’
This poem, quoted in its entirety, is an emotional reflection on letting go of past burdens, embracing the chaotic mistakes of youth, and feeling the intense highs and lows of an unforgettable era. Allow what you may have experienced in life to be animated by a yearning for the good old days, which were actually bad. Nostalgia does not come with 20/20 vision, especially when a roseate lens makes for greater nostalgic value.
Poems about nostalgia do not have a single specific sub-genre name, but they are broadly referred to as nostalgic poetry, poems of retrospection, or reflective poetry. They are bittersweet, summoning meaning by unbraiding the bitter from the sweet to make sense of the hairy situation we often find ourselves in when we reflect on an impersonal world.
The collection’s second section, expansively titled ‘red giant’, seems to carry a different sort of constitution. One that is more contemporary.
The poem ‘mine’ has a proprietorial ring to it that will surely displace the ring in suffering, if its words are listened to: ‘body/wars against itself/every day/am unwitting hazard/to my self/an implosion in progress/how do you neautralize/the enemy/you cannot/hear,see,smell,taste,touch/how do you neautralize/the self’
This poem is a powerful reflection on chronic illness, autoimmune disease, or severe mental health struggles. It captures the exhausting reality of a person whose own body or mind feels like a combat zone. However, it does not stop there. It takes ownership of the situation. That’s why the poem is titled ‘mine’.
The theme of self-acceptance that comes with the speaker claiming or owning the situation serves as a powerful mechanism for healing, reclaiming identity, and defying external expectations.
Rather than projecting an idealised version of the self, the poem presents a ‘warts and all’ reality and, by the very token of this reality, the speaker explores the vulnerable journey of confronting one’s lot in life, embracing physical or emotional flaws, and consenting to live in one’s absolute truth.
In the sixth section of this searingly sincere literary offering, titled ‘proto star’, one is treated to more food for thought in the shape of emotionally munchable verse.
It serves as the perfect way to close this open-wound-but-healing poetry. And it does so, ever so confessionally, in stages.