A Sky The Colour of Hope by Leah Atherton

Review

Inspired by her solo fastpack of the South West Coast Path, ‘A Sky The Colour of Hope’ is Leah Atherton’s commanding debut collection, published by Verve Poetry Press in July 2020. It boasts an array of powerfully wild and striking poems, drawing the reader through the poet’s journey of grief after the loss of her father. Atherton sets the tone for the collection perfectly in her dedication when she says “For Papa — I think I understand now” and questions what it means to find yourself when the world around you seems determined to shape you to its own design.

I had the pleasure of meeting Atherton in a virtual workshop run by Scarlett Ward, and again at the 2023 Verve Poetry Festival. There is always apprehension when you agree to review a friend’s collection, but to my delight ‘A Sky The Colour of Hope’ is a masterclass in poetry. It is unapologetic as it handles love, loss, and female rage, with empowerment burning throughout the poems. I read the collection with my heart in my throat as Atherton lay bare her past relationships, her family ties, and her sense of self.

“Have you ever noticed how a blade is only named / after the tempering? / As if its survival is the defining fact of it. … but don’t we remember the name of the blacksmith … And should I, then, give credit / to my own crucibles?”An amateur sermon on blacksmithing / after Jess May Davis

Her poem ‘An amateur sermon on blacksmithing’ is a beautifully drawn metaphor, exploring how relationships shape personal growth. Dealing with how we are forged by our experiences, Atherton shows the double-edged blade that is surviving and adapting to survive. Speaking on the topic of poetry and trauma, I have heard her say how poets are often expected to present their traumatic experiences for public consumption. Atherton pulls back from this, and her poem highlights the problematic nature of ‘survival’ becoming an individual’s defining trait. People are more than their trauma, and Atherton does not allow the collection to focus on her ‘crucibles’ but instead aims the reader towards the power that comes with freedom afterwards.In “The application form asks about my ethnic background” Atherton says “I am learning to wield my voice like a hatchet: with two good / hands and no apologies”.

Punctuating the collection are Atherton’s ‘Letters to the wolf’, giving the book a fairy-tale quality. The letters act like signposts along Atherton’s journey, revealing a vulnerability which is utterly heart-wrenching at times. Subtle nods to mythology are peppered throughout the poems and are offered to the reader like an in-joke, or a secret shared only between you and the poet. It is a collection that sits inside you after you finish reading, sticking with you long after you put the book down.

My only frustration with this collection is that the blurb does not do it justice. It feels like an afterthought, struggling to explain the book in any significant way, and lacking the consideration with which words are handled in the poetry inside. This is one of the most engaging, and beautifully written collections I have read in recent years. Hearing Atherton read at an open mic in Litchfield, I felt the hairs on my arms lifting, gooseflesh creeping across my skin. The blurb gives no sense of that power. The collection is like lightning in a bottle. It is bright, brilliant, and crackling with energy. It deserves to have a blurb that snatches the reader into that magic.

Copies of Leah Atherton’s Book can be purchased from the Verve Poetry Press Online Shop (£9.99). I received my copy as part of a book exchange. For more information on the poet herself, you can find her on Instagram under the handle @poet_on_the_run and for more details on her new collection you can look up Fawn Press through their website, or socials.