The poems were in turn romantic and, well, not. This section was the most interesting one for me. Sometimes it is a burden, sometimes it is a reminder that no matter how loving someone is, hurt is hurt and it cannot be a part of love.
It takes the hurt from the last chapter and travels with it. The second part, “the loving” is a dizzying chapter. … or all the brutality of a hammer and nail:
Depending on the context and topic being discussed, the combination of the two can have the delicate effect of a needle and thread … Kaur has a way with words and pictures (yes, the book is illustrated), expertly choosing the simplest words and lines to create the most powerful combination of poetry and art. The artwork with its minimalistic style reveals more about itself by the spaces it hasn’t illustrated, while the poetry– similarly minimal in writing style– fills in the blanks, making you unable to look away from the page. It is the shortest and the hardest section to read in my opinion as it deals with traumas like rape and the deep hurt caused by an absent father. The book, as the image above hints at, is divided into four parts. There’s poetry that feels (to me) like it’s speaking an approximation of the language I am so fluent in, clear in writing and not in meaning, and then … there’s poetry like this: poetry that may as well be speaking every language you know, poetry that sinks into your skin like a salve, poetry like milk and honey. It took precisely two poems for Tumblr to convince me that Rupi Kaur’s milk and honey was a book I needed to read.
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