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The Inheritance of Solitude: Poems on Hurt & Healing
- GenresPoetry
132 pages, Paperback
Published July 16, 2026
About the author
Smitha Vishwanath
3 books24 followersSmitha Vishwanath is your quintessential 'bored banker' turned writer. After a rewarding career in Banking in the Middle East where she worked for leading banks in senior positions, she quit and moved to India in July 2018 with her husband who had been transferred to the country on an International assignment. Therein began her writing journey.
'Roads' is the first book she has co-authored. Having lived and studied in different countries and different states within India and worked with different cultures, Smitha understands that 'change' and 'ups and downs' are very much a part of life. It is this experience that reflects in her poems and her writing which are filled with positivity, acceptance and willingness to change for the better.
She also writes regularly through her blog : https://lifeateacher.wordpress.com
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'Roads' is the first book she has co-authored. Having lived and studied in different countries and different states within India and worked with different cultures, Smitha understands that 'change' and 'ups and downs' are very much a part of life. It is this experience that reflects in her poems and her writing which are filled with positivity, acceptance and willingness to change for the better.
She also writes regularly through her blog : https://lifeateacher.wordpress.com
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
July 21, 2026
A word about the cover of this book. Smitha Vishwanath is more than a poet. She is an artist, the artist who created the cover that illustrates the title beautifully.
I just finished reading Smitha Vishwanath's newest book, The Inheritance of Solitude, yesterday morning. It took me a few minutes to quit crying after reading the epilogue before I could write the review. I'll explain later.
Each poem was bathed in lavender and roses as it appeared on the screen. Poems like "My Home Is the River" reflect on the way her father sheltered her throughout her life, from birth until his death. She creates a powerful metaphor—her father as her shelter, her home—as she reverently gives up her home to the river. You may never read a more loving tribute to a father.
my father holds me in his sturdy arms.
I am safe.
Over his shoulders, I feel so tall,
on his back, I am scared I'll fall
now, I carry him
in an urn
my father, my home, my shelter
the roof over my head...
My eyes open, ready...
to throw my roof into the riverbed.
I feel the water flowing.
rivulets over my face
they join my home in the river
I watch it float away.
My clothes stick to my skin-
wet, as one, without shelter. ...
Each poem offers a special balm to those who have ever grieved a loss of any kind.
The Power to Heal Is Within You
Remember, when you bleed, your body jumps into action,
doing all that is in its power to protect itself
remember the section on 'Clotting' in science class?
Trust your body and mind. They know what to do.
Shut out the noise and let them do their job.
You were born self-reliant
do not let anybody tell you otherwise.
Smitha introduced each chapter with a foreign word to English speakers. This touch felt like setting a table with flowers on the table and serving the food on fine china instead of paper plates.
Let me share what touched me so much in the Epilogue.
"I foolishly believed I understood grief and grieving after I lost my mother in 2006. I went through anger, bitterness, apathy toward life, and envy of others who had not faced loss. I believed God had been unfair. ... Then in 2020, I was hit by a colossal loss. Three members of my family passed away in the span of two months: my father, grandma, and uncle."
Right there, my heart broke for her. Losses spread out are bearable - somewhat. But when they come in a bunch, you lose your footing, and Smitha did. She was so vulnerable, and the gentle poems that preceded sprang into reality. This book deserves five stars and many more reviews.
I just finished reading Smitha Vishwanath's newest book, The Inheritance of Solitude, yesterday morning. It took me a few minutes to quit crying after reading the epilogue before I could write the review. I'll explain later.
Each poem was bathed in lavender and roses as it appeared on the screen. Poems like "My Home Is the River" reflect on the way her father sheltered her throughout her life, from birth until his death. She creates a powerful metaphor—her father as her shelter, her home—as she reverently gives up her home to the river. You may never read a more loving tribute to a father.
my father holds me in his sturdy arms.
I am safe.
Over his shoulders, I feel so tall,
on his back, I am scared I'll fall
now, I carry him
in an urn
my father, my home, my shelter
the roof over my head...
My eyes open, ready...
to throw my roof into the riverbed.
I feel the water flowing.
rivulets over my face
they join my home in the river
I watch it float away.
My clothes stick to my skin-
wet, as one, without shelter. ...
Each poem offers a special balm to those who have ever grieved a loss of any kind.
The Power to Heal Is Within You
Remember, when you bleed, your body jumps into action,
doing all that is in its power to protect itself
remember the section on 'Clotting' in science class?
Trust your body and mind. They know what to do.
Shut out the noise and let them do their job.
You were born self-reliant
do not let anybody tell you otherwise.
Smitha introduced each chapter with a foreign word to English speakers. This touch felt like setting a table with flowers on the table and serving the food on fine china instead of paper plates.
Let me share what touched me so much in the Epilogue.
"I foolishly believed I understood grief and grieving after I lost my mother in 2006. I went through anger, bitterness, apathy toward life, and envy of others who had not faced loss. I believed God had been unfair. ... Then in 2020, I was hit by a colossal loss. Three members of my family passed away in the span of two months: my father, grandma, and uncle."
Right there, my heart broke for her. Losses spread out are bearable - somewhat. But when they come in a bunch, you lose your footing, and Smitha did. She was so vulnerable, and the gentle poems that preceded sprang into reality. This book deserves five stars and many more reviews.
July 18, 2026
‘Inheritance of Solitude’ is a flute for the heart. The timbres it produces vibrate and echo in the hearts of all who have experienced hurt and loss. Soft and breezy, with breathtaking imagery, Smitha’s poetry soars on the wings of healing despite the pain, the tears, and the unwillingness to make peace with the inevitable. A ray of hope flickers and becomes stronger toward the end of this book.
Death - the Uninvited Guest breathes a universal sob; its “deaf ears” and “blind eye” spoke to me on a personal level, and who can deny these metaphorical truths?
Dreamer tries to reconcile with the loss of a loved one quietly, conjuring a delusive world of “everybody must go,” believing “I am okay,” but Aching Soles exposes the true agony that we try to hide, even from ourselves. We yearn for the fragrance of our loved ones; we wait in vain to hear the sounds we love; we know that we’ve consigned them to the elements of nature, yet our hearts refuse to accept what people say. Six Months to Numb Your Senses and A Year after sound so realistic. Each emotion, each ache has been poignantly compressed in these poems.
Memories of yesteryears and friendships come alive in some poems, while regrets and forgiveness surfaces in others like Second Chances and Acceptance.
In the Epilogue, the poet says, “grief hits you in waves.” How true! And the waves never cease; sometimes they are wilder, yet life goes on. They never take us along till the “uninvited guest” knocks!
Death - the Uninvited Guest breathes a universal sob; its “deaf ears” and “blind eye” spoke to me on a personal level, and who can deny these metaphorical truths?
Dreamer tries to reconcile with the loss of a loved one quietly, conjuring a delusive world of “everybody must go,” believing “I am okay,” but Aching Soles exposes the true agony that we try to hide, even from ourselves. We yearn for the fragrance of our loved ones; we wait in vain to hear the sounds we love; we know that we’ve consigned them to the elements of nature, yet our hearts refuse to accept what people say. Six Months to Numb Your Senses and A Year after sound so realistic. Each emotion, each ache has been poignantly compressed in these poems.
Memories of yesteryears and friendships come alive in some poems, while regrets and forgiveness surfaces in others like Second Chances and Acceptance.
In the Epilogue, the poet says, “grief hits you in waves.” How true! And the waves never cease; sometimes they are wilder, yet life goes on. They never take us along till the “uninvited guest” knocks!
September 4, 2026
Smitha Vishwanath’s poetry collection The Inheritance of Solitude is a tightly focused meditation on loss and grief and the ultimate knowledge that we are born self-reliant, “do not let anybody tell you otherwise.” The poet’s grief over losing her parents is tangible and made me quite teary.
In “Addicted to ‘Poison,’” Vishwanath describes her mother’s Christian Dior perfume as if it is representative of her mother. It was so personal to her mother that Vishwanath didn’t even touch the bottle under after her mother had passed away.
A spray of pure intoxication spread
like wildfire across the room
__
over the bed cover, the curtains,
her bed, her pillow, warming me
but it wasn’t enough.
It seems that as strong as the perfume is, it cannot heal her grief.
Some of the language is quite plain, appealing to any reader, but there are bursts of creative license that take my breath way, such as:
my hands awaken the stove,
the flame leaps like a tiger
Beautiful and vivid.
Vishwanath tries to “go home.” She takes her husband and children, although of course her childhood cannot be recreated for them. But she makes the effort.
In the latter part of the collection, other griefs are given space, but the book belongs to Vishvanath’s parents whose love and guidance peek from behind every grief-stricken image in the book.
In “Addicted to ‘Poison,’” Vishwanath describes her mother’s Christian Dior perfume as if it is representative of her mother. It was so personal to her mother that Vishwanath didn’t even touch the bottle under after her mother had passed away.
A spray of pure intoxication spread
like wildfire across the room
__
over the bed cover, the curtains,
her bed, her pillow, warming me
but it wasn’t enough.
It seems that as strong as the perfume is, it cannot heal her grief.
Some of the language is quite plain, appealing to any reader, but there are bursts of creative license that take my breath way, such as:
my hands awaken the stove,
the flame leaps like a tiger
Beautiful and vivid.
Vishwanath tries to “go home.” She takes her husband and children, although of course her childhood cannot be recreated for them. But she makes the effort.
In the latter part of the collection, other griefs are given space, but the book belongs to Vishvanath’s parents whose love and guidance peek from behind every grief-stricken image in the book.
September 24, 2026
I really enjoyed this book of poetry. Smitha explores loss and grieving through beautiful verses in this book. Though she is expressing her own experiences of the death of loved ones and her healing journey, anyone who has lost a loved one can connect and relate to her words. The stages of grief are explored through her poems, each one described so hauntingly beautiful with her words. I think this would make a wonderful gift to someone who is grieving the loss of a loved one and may even help them on their healing journey.
August 30, 2026
She’s Chandrakala’s daughter. She’ll have you seeing diamonds on moonlit waters.
I’m having a hard time getting past Saudade & Muryoku-na to reach Hiraeth on page 56, which is the first half of the book.
I’ve read the Saudade & Muryoku-na chapters on repeat, and the thing is, I do not want to move forward; I like them too much.
So I’ve determined to pause here to try to convince you to check out this adoringly beautiful healing book.
—truth! The Inheritance of Solitude is a moving, compassionate book;
it has a sensitivity that resonates.
—truth! Oh, the language.
Vishwanath’s poems are tactile; you feel the pulse of wonder in ordinary lived moments of grace because you know what she knows. And how in the world can she know what you know? Ah, get subsumed by this, dear reader: Here, finally, is someone who knows too…
Excerpt from lines I pulled and lined up from the Saudade & Muryoku-na chapters.
“My Mother… wherever she is, I know it’s where flowers bloom.
Chandrakala
returned to dust.
Where she fell
drops of sunshine on the land, diaphanous petals of gold —
or perhaps, she’s the diamonds sparkling on moonlit waters,
or the crescent moon that watches me from above when I’m in bed.
Chandrakala
moonbeams
my mother’s name.
My Father… wherever he is, it’s where the birds soar free.
‘I can handle it,’ I reply, loving that you care.
your eyes light up as I walk in
you smile like the waning moon,
…It irked me when you did that —
cared too much; it pleases me now.
…I touch you like you’re a flower; your face is a sea of calm.
I whisper, ‘And then Pa?’ like I did
a long, long time ago,
but you don’t stir.“
And then dear reader? Well, you’ll need to get your own copy of The Inheritance of Solitude, Poems on Hurt & Healing by Smitha Vishwanath to find out about the second half of the book so you start healing completely. Do it soon; your heart will thank you. 5-star rating from me and a warm pat on the back to
the author for writing this beautiful book🥹 and sharing it with the world. 🙇🏻♀️
I’m having a hard time getting past Saudade & Muryoku-na to reach Hiraeth on page 56, which is the first half of the book.
I’ve read the Saudade & Muryoku-na chapters on repeat, and the thing is, I do not want to move forward; I like them too much.
So I’ve determined to pause here to try to convince you to check out this adoringly beautiful healing book.
—truth! The Inheritance of Solitude is a moving, compassionate book;
it has a sensitivity that resonates.
—truth! Oh, the language.
Vishwanath’s poems are tactile; you feel the pulse of wonder in ordinary lived moments of grace because you know what she knows. And how in the world can she know what you know? Ah, get subsumed by this, dear reader: Here, finally, is someone who knows too…
Excerpt from lines I pulled and lined up from the Saudade & Muryoku-na chapters.
“My Mother… wherever she is, I know it’s where flowers bloom.
Chandrakala
returned to dust.
Where she fell
drops of sunshine on the land, diaphanous petals of gold —
or perhaps, she’s the diamonds sparkling on moonlit waters,
or the crescent moon that watches me from above when I’m in bed.
Chandrakala
moonbeams
my mother’s name.
My Father… wherever he is, it’s where the birds soar free.
‘I can handle it,’ I reply, loving that you care.
your eyes light up as I walk in
you smile like the waning moon,
…It irked me when you did that —
cared too much; it pleases me now.
…I touch you like you’re a flower; your face is a sea of calm.
I whisper, ‘And then Pa?’ like I did
a long, long time ago,
but you don’t stir.“
And then dear reader? Well, you’ll need to get your own copy of The Inheritance of Solitude, Poems on Hurt & Healing by Smitha Vishwanath to find out about the second half of the book so you start healing completely. Do it soon; your heart will thank you. 5-star rating from me and a warm pat on the back to
the author for writing this beautiful book🥹 and sharing it with the world. 🙇🏻♀️
September 24, 2026
Facing one's grief - A healing process
It took some time for me to read ‘The Inheritance of Solitude’ after I received it. It lay on my bedside table for a while before I was ready to open it. I did not expect the book to unlock emotions that I had safely set aside for the last 18 years! Having said that, not every poem spoke to me, but the ones on loss of friends… parents…about letting go… about self-forgiveness (always a hard one for me) moved emotions in me that I did not know existed. The words hit me and broke the dam I had built within me. It helped me to confront my consciously suppressed grief and face the pain. I broke down reading the poems and strangely, I made peace with it. I can’t say I am healed or have completely unblocked the pain, but yes... this book is a starting point. It has helped me know I am not the only one in this world to experience this pain.
Smitha Vishwanath has put my feelings into words…"feelings" that I thought were meant to only be endured have been penned down on paper. This book talked to me.
Some of the many poems in this collection, that especially moved me were ‘Sometimes’, ‘Acceptance: The Act of Jettisoning’, and ‘How much longer must I wait before I return?’
The Epilogue of the book is as beautiful and healing as the poetry. When I finally closed the book.. I sat in silence for a while allowing the words to wash over and through me.. feeling them talking to me again.. allowing me to shed tears I had not shed in eons... facing one's grief is a sure form of healing.
Don't miss reading it. I totally recommend this book to anybody who hasn’t grieved their loss and to those who have.
It took some time for me to read ‘The Inheritance of Solitude’ after I received it. It lay on my bedside table for a while before I was ready to open it. I did not expect the book to unlock emotions that I had safely set aside for the last 18 years! Having said that, not every poem spoke to me, but the ones on loss of friends… parents…about letting go… about self-forgiveness (always a hard one for me) moved emotions in me that I did not know existed. The words hit me and broke the dam I had built within me. It helped me to confront my consciously suppressed grief and face the pain. I broke down reading the poems and strangely, I made peace with it. I can’t say I am healed or have completely unblocked the pain, but yes... this book is a starting point. It has helped me know I am not the only one in this world to experience this pain.
Smitha Vishwanath has put my feelings into words…"feelings" that I thought were meant to only be endured have been penned down on paper. This book talked to me.
Some of the many poems in this collection, that especially moved me were ‘Sometimes’, ‘Acceptance: The Act of Jettisoning’, and ‘How much longer must I wait before I return?’
The Epilogue of the book is as beautiful and healing as the poetry. When I finally closed the book.. I sat in silence for a while allowing the words to wash over and through me.. feeling them talking to me again.. allowing me to shed tears I had not shed in eons... facing one's grief is a sure form of healing.
Don't miss reading it. I totally recommend this book to anybody who hasn’t grieved their loss and to those who have.
August 20, 2026
I liked reading this book. It was an emotional and thought-provoking read.
Two poems that I especially liked are “Chandrakala” and “The Last Conversation.”
“Chandrakala,” in which Smitha writes about her mother. The line about holding what’s left of someone we love “in the cup of my hand” is beautiful. She says, 'the person we miss lives on in flowers, moonlight, sunshine, and the world around us.'
“The Last Conversation” is another poem that touched me. As a father of two daughters, I saw myself as the father she speaks of in the poem. His last questions about the journey, the flight, the cab, and whether she had eaten are simple, but they become 'The Last Conversation'. A father often shows his care through these everyday questions instead of big, dramatic gestures.
This isn’t just a book about loneliness or loss. It calls upon the reader to have faith in the poem, 'God works in mysterious ways' and understands the slow pace of healing in 'Don't Rush me' as well as accepts that ' Sometimes, it's okay to not be okay' in the poem 'Sometimes'.
Two poems that I especially liked are “Chandrakala” and “The Last Conversation.”
“Chandrakala,” in which Smitha writes about her mother. The line about holding what’s left of someone we love “in the cup of my hand” is beautiful. She says, 'the person we miss lives on in flowers, moonlight, sunshine, and the world around us.'
“The Last Conversation” is another poem that touched me. As a father of two daughters, I saw myself as the father she speaks of in the poem. His last questions about the journey, the flight, the cab, and whether she had eaten are simple, but they become 'The Last Conversation'. A father often shows his care through these everyday questions instead of big, dramatic gestures.
This isn’t just a book about loneliness or loss. It calls upon the reader to have faith in the poem, 'God works in mysterious ways' and understands the slow pace of healing in 'Don't Rush me' as well as accepts that ' Sometimes, it's okay to not be okay' in the poem 'Sometimes'.
August 20, 2026
This book is a perfect read for everyone. Whether or not you have experienced loss and whether or not you like poetry. I love poetry yet at first I really was not sure what this book was going to be like ...
I can honestly say I am so glad I have read it.
Smitha takes us through her life in poems. From the loss of her mother, how her father became her rock, her roots and her home. Then he got older and ill. Sadly he died, as did her Grandmother and an Uncle all in the same year. This sent her reeling as it would anyone.
Her beautiful poetry guides us through her grief, to the acceptance that life goes on even after we lose those we love.
Smitha also guides us through her grief at losing, friends and work colleagues. Even friendships sometimes we have to see these come to an end too.
I have experienced the loss of family and friends and The Inheritance of Solitude really strikes a cord with me.
There is something for everyone in this book. I say thank you Smitha for sharing.
I can honestly say I am so glad I have read it.
Smitha takes us through her life in poems. From the loss of her mother, how her father became her rock, her roots and her home. Then he got older and ill. Sadly he died, as did her Grandmother and an Uncle all in the same year. This sent her reeling as it would anyone.
Her beautiful poetry guides us through her grief, to the acceptance that life goes on even after we lose those we love.
Smitha also guides us through her grief at losing, friends and work colleagues. Even friendships sometimes we have to see these come to an end too.
I have experienced the loss of family and friends and The Inheritance of Solitude really strikes a cord with me.
There is something for everyone in this book. I say thank you Smitha for sharing.
August 4, 2026
The Inheritance of Solitude is a beautiful collection of poems on grief, loss, and healing, written between 2018 and the present. Although the poems are deeply personal, they will resonate with anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one. They explore death, memories, sorrow, and the slow journey toward healing and finding closure.
Some of my favorite poems are "Addicted to Poison," and "My Home Is a River," which beautifully captures the emotions and significance of the Hindu post-cremation rituals.
The collection also includes memorable poems like "Make the Call," "Second Chances," and "God Works in Mysterious Ways," each offering thoughtful reflections and gentle reminders to cherish the people we love while we can.
Some of my favorite poems are "Addicted to Poison," and "My Home Is a River," which beautifully captures the emotions and significance of the Hindu post-cremation rituals.
The collection also includes memorable poems like "Make the Call," "Second Chances," and "God Works in Mysterious Ways," each offering thoughtful reflections and gentle reminders to cherish the people we love while we can.
September 4, 2026
How did I not see the coming of Winter?
I took my time with this collection. There are lines within this book that manage to seep into your veins and tap into the memories you thought you had buried.
Grief is a companion on life's journey. And she finds you in the moments of solitude, of laughter, of frustration and also in the highs of life.
Smitha did a wonderful job expressing her moments of unraveling and her moments of finding the strength to carry on.
This is a book you'd be sitting with for a long time.
I took my time with this collection. There are lines within this book that manage to seep into your veins and tap into the memories you thought you had buried.
Grief is a companion on life's journey. And she finds you in the moments of solitude, of laughter, of frustration and also in the highs of life.
Smitha did a wonderful job expressing her moments of unraveling and her moments of finding the strength to carry on.
This is a book you'd be sitting with for a long time.
July 28, 2026
Only time heals or not !
Smithas poems talk about pain, not only the agony of losing someone physically , but mentally emotionally. I was able to relate some of her poems that speak about losing a parent, losing a dear friend, a dear aunt.
It also speaks about the memories we make in our journey of life that is surreal.
It's over all a very well written poems, an emotional roller-coaster !
Smithas poems talk about pain, not only the agony of losing someone physically , but mentally emotionally. I was able to relate some of her poems that speak about losing a parent, losing a dear friend, a dear aunt.
It also speaks about the memories we make in our journey of life that is surreal.
It's over all a very well written poems, an emotional roller-coaster !
October 2, 2026
Smith's poems are like therapy for the soul. She has put into words our emotions.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews