With A Letter to Myself, Pushti Dhamsania crafts a book that blurs the boundaries between poetry and personal diary. The collection is divided into eight thematically distinct parts, each a step in a journey from ache to acceptance. It is a book that speaks directly to “the quiet hearts,” those who, as the author writes, “feel too much, love too hard, and yet wonder if they’re ever enough.”
Dhamsania’s great strength lies in emotional authenticity. Her verses are unpretentious, almost conversational. One can imagine them scrawled on a café napkin or murmured during a late-night walk. This accessibility makes the work instantly relatable. Poems like “I booked a solo trip… for the first time, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt free” crystallize moments of self-discovery with striking economy.
The collection also offers a subtle critique of contemporary relationships. Through vignettes of controlling partners, absent friends, and the societal demand to “be strong,” Dhamsania exposes the quiet violences of everyday life. Yet she resists bitterness. Forgiveness, both of self and others, becomes a recurring motif. In one poignant line, she writes, “I forgive you—for the times you didn’t know better. For the times you were only surviving.” Such moments elevate the book beyond simple confessional poetry into something more restorative.
However, the very qualities that make the poems approachable can occasionally limit them. The language rarely strays beyond plainspoken imagery; readers who relish linguistic surprise or layered metaphor may crave more complexity. At times, the abundance of short, fragmentary pieces risks monotony. But to fault the book for this is to miss its intent: Dhamsania is not chasing literary fireworks but offering quiet companionship.
What is most compelling is the sense of progression. Early sections dwell on wounds—“Not all wounds bleed. Some sit quietly in your chest”—while later parts celebrate small victories: a real smile, a quiet morning without fear. By the final pages, when the author writes, “You are not what you lost. You are what you found within,” the reader feels the hard-earned lightness of someone who has rebuilt themselves piece by piece.
A Letter to Myself may not satisfy those seeking grand poetic innovation, but it will resonate deeply with readers craving solace and solidarity. It is a reminder that strength can be soft, that healing can be slow, and that sometimes the bravest act is simply to keep living. In a noisy world, Dhamsania’s quiet courage feels both radical and necessary.
Title: A Letter to Myself
Author: Pushti Dhamsania