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My Body Can House Two Hearts
MY BODY CAN HOUSE TWO HEARTS skips across the fragile boundaries of history, culture, relationships, and language. It explores the transitory balance of belonging by tying threads between different places and ideas not often compared. Traverse the poet’s perception of her Welsh and Iraqi heritage, her positioning as a woman of colour, and the nuances of feminist action. My Body Can House Two Hearts is a celebration of women’s redemptive interdependency and the rejection of patriarchal power.
- GenresPoetry
42 pages, Paperback
Published October 1, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
November 13, 2024
I attended one of Hanan’s readings last year, and distinctly remember the beauty of her use of Arabic and Welsh, which, to me, a non-speaker of both languages, blended so seamlessly that I couldn’t decipher which was which. Having finally gotten round to reading the collection, the beauty of those languages shone through again, as, while I didn’t understand the meaning of all the words, I understood their feeling. The poems express the feeling of belonging and not quite belonging to two places and cultures, something I relate to myself, and each one made me stop, think, and feel. Unexpected and really real, I would highly recommend!
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June 26, 2023such a wonderful read. a carefully crafted and perfectly put together collection that i am now going to force everyone i know to read.
March 12, 2021
‘Hen wlad fy nhadau occupies my thoughts.
Blazing rage and bullets piercing dreams of Baghdad.’
The opening lines of this stunning collection illustrate the dichotomy facing Hanan Issa. There’s the Welsh national anthem associated by many with lively sporting occasions; then there are the brutal deaths which characterise daily life on the streets of Baghdad. How can the differing aspects of her mixed-race background possibly be reconciled?
Issa takes up the challenge. In ‘Beauty and Blood’, she contrasts Saddam’s draining of the Hammar marshes to control the Marsh Arabs with the flooding of Capel Celyn to provide water to Liverpool. “As the little Welsh town fills with water, / hear the pained goodbyes of women / who tattoo each other’s stories in secret. / History is always the beauty and blood.”
Then there’s ‘Croesawgar’ (Welcoming). In 1966, eight year old Jeff Edwards was the last survivor to be pulled from the rubble of the Aberfan disaster. In 2016, five year old Omran Daqneesh was pulled alive from the rubble following a Russian airstrike in Aleppo. “What difference is there between the suffering / of Jeff Edwards and Omran Daqneesh?” Issa asks. Yet she points out that, in a year when 325 refugees were settled in Wales, Merthyr Tydfil ‘The place where modern Wales began’ declined to welcome a single one. Issa calls out such decisions. “The strength that clings to Welsh language / will not fail by reaching past daffodils and rugby, / proudly pointing to a map, declaring, / ‘This is the land of croesawgar.’”
There is so much love in this book. In the beautiful ‘Watching him eat strawberries’, Issa describes her young son foraging in the kitchen for snacks. “But I want to stay here, / with his dirt-filled fingernails, / juice trickling down that little chin. / Wallahi, I want to stay here.” Then there’s the intense intimacy of ‘Fairouz and French Toast, “Please, don’t stop humming: You are mine, you are mine.” But particular respect is shown for two women; for Issa’s mother ‘for standing with your back straight’ and for her Welsh nan who would bring the girls breakfast in bed of doorstop toast cut into not-quite-triangle shapes ‘cause she nibbled the burnt edges first.’ Their support must have been crucial when Issa was growing up. She describes in ‘I Don’t See Colour’ some of the shameful incidents she experienced. “’Keep your filthy black hands off my son,’ she said to me. / Filthy. Black. Hands.” This to Issa when she was seven years old. And then “‘The yearbook was red when Amy said / I was ‘most likely to be a terrorist’”. But over the years, what she had lived through has tempered rather than crushed her. “So watch me spear the next John Chau / who dares to plant a flag on my shore.”
It is women whom Issa sees as showing the way forward for Wales. “Audre Lorde taught me that women have an immense capacity for interdependence and compassion and that these are essential tools in dismantling patriarchy.” Women and the love they have to offer. “Two hearts my body can hold, / so I mould my legacy:” Issa writes in the title poem, “to make space enough for all, / standing tall, I rise, breathe free. / Two hearts – a strength none can take; / love’s a lake and the world is thirsty.”
There is a wonderfully unapologetic feel to these poems. They are hard and in no mood for compromise. Issa knows what she is about, “Growing a love embracing, / rejecting patriarchy, / no need to shame my peers / or let my fears rat-race me.” And there is a certain irony to be found in them. Issa’s beloved nan who always said “You are Welsh first!” came from a generation who were punished in school if they were caught speaking Welsh. Those days are long gone. Wales has changed in the decades since and it is the Hanan Issas of this world who have brought that about. The Wales of today is a place where a poetry book’s introduction can begin, “Allah, the most Merciful, taught me that…” and nothing untoward is thought of it. “My heritage is woven from two places overflowing with culture, language and history. I would like to think I have enough love inside me for all of it.”
Blazing rage and bullets piercing dreams of Baghdad.’
The opening lines of this stunning collection illustrate the dichotomy facing Hanan Issa. There’s the Welsh national anthem associated by many with lively sporting occasions; then there are the brutal deaths which characterise daily life on the streets of Baghdad. How can the differing aspects of her mixed-race background possibly be reconciled?
Issa takes up the challenge. In ‘Beauty and Blood’, she contrasts Saddam’s draining of the Hammar marshes to control the Marsh Arabs with the flooding of Capel Celyn to provide water to Liverpool. “As the little Welsh town fills with water, / hear the pained goodbyes of women / who tattoo each other’s stories in secret. / History is always the beauty and blood.”
Then there’s ‘Croesawgar’ (Welcoming). In 1966, eight year old Jeff Edwards was the last survivor to be pulled from the rubble of the Aberfan disaster. In 2016, five year old Omran Daqneesh was pulled alive from the rubble following a Russian airstrike in Aleppo. “What difference is there between the suffering / of Jeff Edwards and Omran Daqneesh?” Issa asks. Yet she points out that, in a year when 325 refugees were settled in Wales, Merthyr Tydfil ‘The place where modern Wales began’ declined to welcome a single one. Issa calls out such decisions. “The strength that clings to Welsh language / will not fail by reaching past daffodils and rugby, / proudly pointing to a map, declaring, / ‘This is the land of croesawgar.’”
There is so much love in this book. In the beautiful ‘Watching him eat strawberries’, Issa describes her young son foraging in the kitchen for snacks. “But I want to stay here, / with his dirt-filled fingernails, / juice trickling down that little chin. / Wallahi, I want to stay here.” Then there’s the intense intimacy of ‘Fairouz and French Toast, “Please, don’t stop humming: You are mine, you are mine.” But particular respect is shown for two women; for Issa’s mother ‘for standing with your back straight’ and for her Welsh nan who would bring the girls breakfast in bed of doorstop toast cut into not-quite-triangle shapes ‘cause she nibbled the burnt edges first.’ Their support must have been crucial when Issa was growing up. She describes in ‘I Don’t See Colour’ some of the shameful incidents she experienced. “’Keep your filthy black hands off my son,’ she said to me. / Filthy. Black. Hands.” This to Issa when she was seven years old. And then “‘The yearbook was red when Amy said / I was ‘most likely to be a terrorist’”. But over the years, what she had lived through has tempered rather than crushed her. “So watch me spear the next John Chau / who dares to plant a flag on my shore.”
It is women whom Issa sees as showing the way forward for Wales. “Audre Lorde taught me that women have an immense capacity for interdependence and compassion and that these are essential tools in dismantling patriarchy.” Women and the love they have to offer. “Two hearts my body can hold, / so I mould my legacy:” Issa writes in the title poem, “to make space enough for all, / standing tall, I rise, breathe free. / Two hearts – a strength none can take; / love’s a lake and the world is thirsty.”
There is a wonderfully unapologetic feel to these poems. They are hard and in no mood for compromise. Issa knows what she is about, “Growing a love embracing, / rejecting patriarchy, / no need to shame my peers / or let my fears rat-race me.” And there is a certain irony to be found in them. Issa’s beloved nan who always said “You are Welsh first!” came from a generation who were punished in school if they were caught speaking Welsh. Those days are long gone. Wales has changed in the decades since and it is the Hanan Issas of this world who have brought that about. The Wales of today is a place where a poetry book’s introduction can begin, “Allah, the most Merciful, taught me that…” and nothing untoward is thought of it. “My heritage is woven from two places overflowing with culture, language and history. I would like to think I have enough love inside me for all of it.”
June 14, 2024
i initially started thinking that the title which attracted me was essentially 'it' with this book, but I warmed to it slowly - essentially through the more personal and intimate poems less so though the more distancing general / political notings. The power of sisterhood in the context of the unsupportive father and the alienating paternal culture that pulled her (pulls her?) in other directions.
Out with the dictionary for some of the arabic and islamic terms - not a chore though as this was fascintating to find words that held a world unknown (like Qawwam, lugha, Si'Luwa...)
Glad to have read it.
Out with the dictionary for some of the arabic and islamic terms - not a chore though as this was fascintating to find words that held a world unknown (like Qawwam, lugha, Si'Luwa...)
Glad to have read it.
August 30, 2023
This small book of poetry was so good I even had fun reading the appendix. Gorgeous word choices and powerful messages all around. Strongly recommend
May 30, 2024
Lush
September 21, 2025
A short but meaningful and poignant book of poems.
June 28, 2025
If readers have enjoyed this Welsh Iraqi poet, also recommend Abeer Ameer. Both are wonderful poets; so glad for their witness 🙏.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews