Native Guard, by Natasha Tretheway, is a beautiful, short collection of poetry about growing up biracial in the South and the imprint the racial legacy of that area left on the author. Titled after the Louisina Native Guards, who were called into service during the civil war, Tretheway draws haunting parallels between modern life and the history of the brave soldiers she learned about. Tretheway explores multiple writing styles in her book, drawing heavily upon history, with most poems having their own referenced locations and dates.

History plays a huge part in Tretheway’s poetry, grounding the reader in her thoughts. She references specific dates in poems like “Pilgrimage,” where she says “in 1863, to the woman sitting in her parlor, / candlelit, underground. I can see her / listening to shells explode, writing herself / into history, asking what is to become / of all the living things in this place?” (Pilgrimage, 19). Tretheway specifically references the concept of history and solidifies it as a player in the narrative she weaves, personifying it with lines such as “In my dream, / the ghost of history lies down beneath me, / rolls over, pins me beneath a heavy arm” (Pilgrimage, 20). It is evident that she has lived with the weight of the history of African Americans in the US her whole life, and that she has a complicated relationship with her history. She also describes a silent battle between society and history, and discusses how people rewrite history: “On screen a slave stood big as life: big mouth, / bucked eyes, our textbook’s grinning proof—a lie / my teacher guarded. Silent, so did I” (Southern History, 23). It is one of the first poems I have seen truly discuss revisioned history in such a poignant way, that truly brings the full brunt of shame and fear and knowledge to the forefront for the reader. I cannot blame the narrator of the poem for staying silent in a classroom of people being a fed a lie, as the framing of the poem makes it clear that it is not an easy choice. Her poetry is further grounded in specific locations she remembers: “I return / to Mississippi, state that made a crime / of me—mulatto, half-breed—native / in my native land, this place they’ll bury me” (South, 46). Tretheway’s complicated yet loving relationship with the land where she grew up is evident in this poem for her readers, and truly pushes at the idea that someone has to hate the South for racism. Tretheway experienced the racism, even describing a harrowing experience with the Ku Klux Klan from her childhood, and yet is clear that she refuses to leave her native land, that she has as much of a right to it as anyone else.

Tretheway’s complicated relationship with history in the book connects to the grief she feels, both for her mother, and for the brave soldiers of the Native Guard who fought in the Civil War. Through poignant metaphors such as “I’m too late, / again, another space emptied by loss. / Tomorrow, the bowl I have yet to fill,” she turns the abstract concept of her mother’s death into something concretely missing from her life (After Your Death, 13). She further solidifies the grief in her narrative not just for her mother, but for soldiers she had never met, when she writes  “Last night, / I dreamt their eyes still open—dim, clouded / as the eyes of fish washed ashore, yet fixed— / staring back at me” (Native Guard, 29). It is a horrifying image, yet truly solidifies the grief and empathy Tretheway feels for the brave men who fought and were  discarded or ignored by history in the coming decades. Her narrative revitalizes their name and brings the history to a new audience.

Memory plays a key role in Tretheway’s narrative, especially as she discusses differences in memory of the same event, and forgetfulness. Near the beginning, she writes about how flowers told her and her mother different things—“Be taken with yourself, / they said to me; Die early, to my mother”—and the memory of the flower as such differs, and further reflects their different histories (Genus Narcissus, 7). She further explores forgetfulness when it comes to forgetting one’s past, when she writes from a former slave’s perspective “Truth be told, I do not want to forget / anything of my former life: the landscape’s / song of bondage” (Native Guard, 25). Forgetfulness is further explored in the fact that the South did not honor the soldiers of the Native Guard the same way they did their white soldiers. Tretheway inscribes an elegy for them, stating “No names carved for the Native Guards— / 2nd Regiment, Union men, black phalanx. / What is monument to their legacy?” (Elegy for the Native Guards, 44). Tretheway’s poetry honors them in a meaningful way, and brings their legacy to the 21st century.

“Phantom / ache, memory haunting an empty sleeve; / the hog-eaten at Gettysburg, unmarked / in their graves; all the dead letters, unanswered; / untold stories of those that time will render / mute,” Natasha Tretheway writes in Native Guard, a line that really encompasses the themes of her book (Native Guard, 30). She deftly explores themes of grief, memory, and loss, all heavily rooted in the legacy of the deep South and its history. As someone who had never heard of the Native Guard before reading this book of their history, it was a beautiful way to learn more about this part of history. In my own poetry, I hope to experiment with writing poetry that is also grounded in specific moments in history, whether it is Indian history of queer history, and connect it to my own life.