Born Sacred: Poems for Palestine

by Smokii Sumac

In October 2023, upon witnessing the escalation of Palestinian genocide, Ktunaxa poet Smokii Sumac began writing poems reflecting on the stories of Palestinians in Gaza who were risking their lives to share news of the genocide of Palestinian culture, literature, and life. These 100 poems offer a witnessing of the escalation of colonial violence, both current and historical, across oceans, lands, cultures, and people, and the reckoning one has in the face of a genocide.


Vulnerable, eloquent, compassionate, and enduring, Born Sacred is an in-time reflection honouring the shared histories of Indigenous Peoples of North America and of the people in Palestine. Sumac offers this collection as a small piece of life dedicated to Palestinians and resounds the collective call for solidarity in our shared liberation.

Genres: Poetry, Indigenous

160 pages, Paperback

Published April 3, 2025

About the author

Smokii Sumac is a proud member of the Ktunaxa nation located in what is currently southeastern British Columbia. They are a PhD Candidate in Indigenous Studies at Trent University where their research centres on “coming home” as a Ktunaxa adoptee and two-spirit person. Smokii identifies as queer, transmasculine, two-spirit, a poet, and uncle, and auntie and a cat person. They accept he/him/his or they/them/theirs pronouns. Smokii’s work has been published in Write Magazine, and under his former name* (he is a man of many names) in Canadian Literature, Aanikoobijigan//Waawaashkeshi (a project by Anishinaabe/Métis artist Dylan Miner), and on coffee sleeves in local Peterborough coffee shops as one of the winners of e-city lit’s artsweek contest in 2014. Smokii currently lives in Nogojiwanong (Peterborough, Ontario) with their cat Miss Magoo, though he plans on returning to ʔamak̓is Ktunaxa in Summer 2018.

Reviews

[Carey · Rating 3 out of 5]

I feel deeply conflicted about this poetry collection. On one hand, I appreciate the author’s attempt to illuminate the interconnectivity of Indigenous struggles across the globe. There is real merit in the poet’s guiding argument that settler colonialism, in any form, creates shared patterns of resistance, dispossession, and resilience across continents, cultures, and communities. I also value the poet’s vulnerability in acknowledging their own initial lack of education on the Palestinian struggle, and their willingness to engage with it by seeking out resources, learning from members of the Palestinian diaspora, and reflecting on the painful process of unlearning propaganda, particularly that which circulates in the West. That willingness to learn openly and humbly is important, especially in a time when many people are still coming to terms with how much has been purposely obscured from them in the West. The poet’s emotional response — grief, anger, helplessness — is one many of us share as we watch, from afar, the atrocities being committed in Gaza with the complicity of Western governments and media silence.

However, despite understanding the intent behind the collection, I found the tone of some poems difficult to digest. While it’s clear that Smokii wrote from a place of raw emotion and genuine solidarity, there were moments where the work felt uncomfortably centered on the poet’s own experience which shifted the focus from bearing witness to inadvertently overshadowing the very voices that need to be uplifted most. The intention may have been to reach others who are also just beginning to learn, but there is a delicate line between expressing solidarity and unintentionally recentering oneself in a narrative that is not one’s own. In moments like this, I believe it is crucial to step aside and amplify Palestinian voices whose testimonies speak directly to their lived reality. Their voices are not only vital, but ongoing and present; they should not be symbolically absorbed into another group’s experience, even in the name of empathy or allyship. Smokii’s voice, as a Ktunaxa poet, absolutely has a place in conversations about colonial violence. But in this particular collection, the balance sometimes felt off, as if space was being taken rather than shared.

In the end, I respect the vulnerability and political intent behind this collection. It speaks to an urgent emotional and ethical response to injustice. But I also think it’s important to recognize when solidarity risks becoming substitution, and to remain mindful of the power dynamics in whose stories are told and who gets to tell them.

[Hannah · Rating 4 out of 5]

I thought the preface was a brilliant break down of how deeply rooted the hunger for land can be and how closely related the continued assault on Palestine is much like the perpetual taking of inches of indigenous communities' lands. Throughout the poems, there are continual similarities shared between the history of both issues, and it's like being in the middle of watching history repeat itself-- even with how the pages are set up often, there's this past and future, and present marked by the movement between the two. You can feel the sadness that feels universal of just watching this happen in clips on the news.

Thanks for the ARC

[Shannon Boote · Rating 3 out of 5]

I received an advanced reader copy of Born Sacred: Poems for Palestine from Netgally in exchange for an honest review. My rating is a 3.00 star.

This one is hard for me, especially if I had rated this based on the forward. It felt a little heavy-handed. Smokii is a member of the Ktunaxa nation (pronounced 'k-too-nah-ha'), they are also neurodivergent and transgender. I was excited to read something from an indigenous writer and a writer part of the neurodivergent and LGBTQIA+ communities. I had originally thought this was a collection written by a Palestinian writer and was a little confused at first. I think the description of this collection is misleading and makes it sound like they are Palestinian, which is a disservice to the collection and its message on colonialism.

What Gave Me Pause
Back to the forward, I was a little miffed because it almost felt like that one friend who always has it worse than everyone else, like “oh you broke your leg in two places, I shattered my leg at 14 and it still gives me problems, you’re lucky”. Being a disabled person myself, who is neurodivergent, and queer, I am often confronted with people trying to one-up my experiences with chronic pain and spinal cord degeneration and so much more. It is not empathy; it is erasing my experience to garner attention. It also feels like those people who run up to me putting their hands on me or my wheelchair saying, oh honey, I feel so bad for you, can I pray over you? It feels self-indulgent and icky, which shows how experience can trigger us. I am glad I read on though because instead of allowing that misunderstanding to cloud my judgement, I can now whole-heartedly understand what Smokii was trying to say, even though I was just not a fan of the gaze. They opened my eyes to even more personal experiences from the gaze of a member of an indigenous nation.

While this is not a Palestinian own-voices collection, it is a colonialism own-voices account and so much more. That said, I believe Smokii could have focused on the Ktunaxa nation and given us something culturally personal and poignant. I did read a few of the lower rated reviews to see if I was being a little harsh, but I do agree with some criticisms. I am not part of any indigenous nation, nor am I Palestinian so I felt my opinion, in this context, was not valid. But as one reviewer, Omar Ramadan, put it, “There is so much wrong in this book that I am not too sure where to start. From the Orientalist gaze a lot of the poetry is couched in, to the way these poems reek of privilege and attempt assuage the author's guilt for not being able to do anything meaningful while Zionists genocide Palestinian people, to attempting to insert themselves as the voice necessary for this moment and taking up space that is undeserved.” I think that is the main takeaway here “attempting to insert themselves as the voice necessary for this moment”. I can surely see how this can come across that way.

I was not a big fan of the layout. While this might be an issue with the digital copy, the lack of some punctuation and/or delineation in several areas made it necessary to go back and reread certain parts. I am not new to poetry. I am an avid poetry reader, so I get the “no punctuation” choice, but the layout in the version I got made it quite hard to not read as a run-on which always brought me to an abrupt stop and having to go back to reread.

Where It Shines
From their place in the Ktunaxa nation, Smokii speaks of the effects of colonization on not only their indigenous ancestors, but the inequalities that still affect their lives today. I think drawing parallels to what is happening today in Gaza felt forced, though. Like they wanted to write about their own feelings about Ktunaxa colonization but felt in the face of what is happening in Gaza that they had to form a parallel. I tried to read this as just poetry, judging just based on the writing itself. Smokii’s prose, at times, are simply divine and can make the reader forget about the things that feel wrong about the collection.

I highlighted so many passages. Choosing what to share here was so hard. Smokii verbalizes the deep wells of emotion that so many of us naturally empathetic readers feel and understand. What comes across genuinely is the pain and tears and worse, anxiety that feeling deeply and feeling helpless causes.

Take Away
I think given at face value, Smokii wrote what they were feeling, what many of us are feeling watching helplessly from worlds away from what is happening in Gaza. I think so many of us feel the same sense of dread, sadness, and anger. With that said, I think it is important, in these moments, to step aside and give the stage to Palestinian writers and journalist. Lifting their voices so that their struggle is not being compared to or overshadowed by another group's experience. Right now, they need the light shown directly on Gaza. Smokii’s voice and their experience as Ktunaxa have a place and I am eager to read their other published work, You are Enough: Love Poems for the End of the World. I am also looking up more of Smokii’s history online, to get a sense of the writer and their experiences. What I know is that getting the stories, the histories, and the sufferings of any POC in front of white people is essential. In the end, it was the white man who has always been the oppressor, and it will take the white man waking up to put an end to their own horrible behaviors and conquering ways. It takes other white people shaming them and shaming and challenging their ways to force change, because change in this instance has to be forced.

Excerpt from Born Sacred: Poems for Palestine:
“sobbing I watched a video of a Palestinian child crying for their mother
how do we go on? felt the deep well of pain inside me
remembering crying on my own
how many generations taught not to cry? To take it out on themselves?
the least i can do is weep today and let the truth break me open our Ktunaxa nation went to the supreme court to fight for our sacred places
all places are sacred
the court said our name wrong told us
our religion has no space here
the developer of the proposed ski resort said
he wouldn’t call that place sacred
all places are sacred
yesterday they bombed a church in Palestine
a church that was older than the state of Isreal
and i think of how when notre dame burned
financially wealthy white people sent millions
what of that which is sacred to us?
all places all people all children born sacred I will kiss you in heaven”
Born Sacred: Poems for Palestine

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Encapsulated a lot of the grief and helplessness i felt watching this genocide from afar, and some hope for the future. The author's relationship to colonialism in the native community interwove with their experience and their work in such a painfully beautiful way.

Thanks, netgalley, for this ARC.

[Omar Ramadan · Rating 1 out of 5]

I am at a loss. I am not sure where the rave reviews for this book are coming from or why. This book merits no raves nor praise. I am not sure how these poems were "ok'd" for publishing in book form. The only way I can think of that this was pushed through to being published is if the editors at FernPub were mass approving books blindfolded. There is so much wrong in this book that I am not too sure where to start. From the Orientalist gaze a lot of the poetry is couched in, to the way these poems reek of privilege and attempt assuage the author's guilt for not being able to do anything meaningful while Zionists genocide Palestinian people, to attempting to insert themselves as the voice necessary for this moment and taking up space that is undeserved. I'd skip this one folks. Or maybe read Mohammed El Kurd's latest book Perfect Victims because it breaks down exactly how Sumac plays into that trope.

If I could rate this 0 stars, I would. Honestly just a waste of paper that could have had better uses like for toilet paper.

[Sonja · Rating 5 out of 5]

100 poems for Palestine by a woman from the Ktunaxa nation in Canada. The poet’s feelings for Palestine and the genocide alongside her daily life and the micro aggressions she experiences. How do we turn this around is the big question.

[Valerie · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5⭐

[Daniel Roldán-Chímal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Smokii Sumac puts into words everything that I have been feeling over the past year and a half (and more). Through poetry and prose, they describe the pain, confusion, guilt, hope, and anxieties of our times. Positioned in Ktunaxa ways of knowing, they give a voice to the indescribable grief of bearing witness to genocide and colonialism, from Palestine (Gaza) to Turtle Island. This collection of 100 poems broke me, put me back together, and reminded me that at the end of the day we all have one another—we must continue in the fight for collective liberation and find hope in allyship.

Thank you to the NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!

[Zo · Rating 2 out of 5]

While I think the idea of this book had potential, this feels like 200 pages of self flagellation

[K.C. Norton · Rating 5 out of 5]

The day before I read "Born Sacred," I asked someone if there was a word for secondhand PTSD, for thinking about what the sound of planes mean to the people of Palestine every time a plane flies over my house. It's not PTSD, really, and it's not exactly fear, but it's a type of physical pain. Secondhand trauma, maybe. Knowing that I'm complicit in the ongoing genocide despite my small efforts to end it.

Smokii Sumac gives voice to all these feelings and more. As a Ktunaxa poet (and transmasculine person), he wrestles with his own ignorance of distant violence even as he processes ancestral trauma and government erasure. He acknowledges that none of us are free until all of us are free, and admits that he bought a tablet despite knowing how our tech is made. Sometimes, it felt like he was plucking thoughts out of my head. Other times, his comparisons of Ktunaxa history and the Palestinian present reinforced a picture that's come into focus only too recently for me.

It seems that there are 100 poems in this collection, but sometimes the ARC copies I get have formatting issues. In my versions, lines breaks were erratic and there was no visual distinction between poems. I have no idea where poems began and ended, and their overlapping themes and recurring imagery made this read like one long piece that all blurred together, which is how the last year and a half or so has felt.

I will always encourage people to read Palestinian voices first, but I felt---and I think many other readers of similar age and circumstance will feel---immense kinship with Sumac's articulation of how surreal it is to balance resistance with practical everyday concerns, or to make dinner while being constantly aware that people whose names and faces are as familiar as a friend's (Bisan, Plestia, Motaz, and in my case, Ibraheem) are under siege and starving. I very much recommend this collection.

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'd like to thank Netgalley, the publisher, and the author for an ARC. In exchange, I am providing an honest review.

First, before I begin with the meat of the content of the collection, I'd like to address the formating. For me, it was a general issue, and I am not sure if it's just how it is for all kindle readers, or because this was an ARC. There was no clear way to distinguish one poem from the next. They all just rolled into one another like a very long train of thought. At one point, there was a mention of it being the 76th or 90th poem, and I was like, "Oh, I guess I've read that many poems." This made the overall reading experience less enjoyable for me since I didn't know where to stop to catch a beat and think.

Now for the content itself. I do think that the train of thought aspect was an interesting way to read these poems, since at moments, it reflected my own thoughts and what was going through my head. It's weird to have to process that tragedy happening on one side of the world while navigating a more priviledged life in North America. I understand that I have even more societally invested privilege than Smokii, but the parts where Smokii weighs the dual stressors was very relatable to me.

The perspective of someone who has been colonized and sees their trauma happening again on the other side of the world was also interesting, and it wasn't something I had considered as much as I should have before reading these poems.

Overall, I do think this was a valuable read, and I have spent time ruminating on all the complexities between its covers. I will agree with other reviewers that at points it felt repetitive, and I definitely would have preferred better formatting.

[Kristiana · Rating 3 out of 5]

While Born Sacred clearly comes from an informed and good place, as a poetry collection it swiftly becomes repetitive and centres the individual rather than the issues it is hoping to raise awareness about. I liked how Sumac drew parallels between the experience of indigenous, First Nation people in the Americas with the genocide and displacement of the Palestinian people; the poems focusing on this are powerful and important. Thematically, however, the collection is incredibly repetitive with its messaging and imagery. Sumac's writing lacks range and so over the 50% mark the collection loses its power. The collection is also hindered by the centralisation of the first person singular, distanced speaker. And while the comparisons between 'ordinary pain' (to quote Carol Ann Duffy's speaker in War Photographer) with the atrocities being committed elsewhere, due to the structural choice of always beginning with the speaker, the poet (unwittingly I'm sure) centralises themselves and others the pain they are witnessing. Like many other reviewers have stated, I'd have preferred if the publisher sought Palestinian voices rather than others writing about an experience, which even though it may be similar, is still vastly alien to them. This said, I would very much enjoy a collection from Sumac which explores their indigenous history and heritage (without the comparisons).

[Rhiley Jade · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and Columbia University Press for the E-ARC! This E-ARC was sent to me in exchange for an honest review.

My heart was on fire throughout the entire collection.
Sumac interweaves experiences of Indigenous history and Palestinian genocide and how they can find kin in one another while also being vastly different, and it's done WELL.
The poems are a smack on the head for people who are blind to what's happening in Palestine. They yell at you to open your eyes, to LOOK, to see it. It's right in front of us but so many people turn away. It's infuriating and Sumac clearly says, "Enough".
A great piece of work that conveys grief and solidarity and empathy!

[Skailer · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are a lot of reviews complaining that Smokii was usurping Palestinian voices, but I challenge folks, both past and future readers, to change their viewpoint on what interconnected solidarity means. Smokii is not pretending to be Palestinian, but is responding to genocide, a genocide that echoes their own people's experiences, through art. If even one person reads this and is moved to take one more additional action of solidarity with Gaza and Palestinian people, then this book has done more than the majority. That solidarity, in this reader's humble opinion, is never in vain.

[Amanda]

The contrast within the poems opens my heart. This is the type of poetry collection I would shove down in the postal box of all my friends, no note, no explanation, just the words speaking for themselves.

It’s poetry that needs to be read, absorbed, reflected upon. The kind that settles into your bones and changes shape depending on the light. I'm obsessed and will try to acquire a physical copy ASAP - some words are meant to be held and kept permanently.

[Michele Mateus · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am just starting to get into poetry and at the same time have been actively learning more about Palestine, Indigenous rights and the landback movement and I thought that Smokii had such a special way of bringing these topics together. I also loved the poetic way the pages were laid out, offering spaces for pause and reflection. Highly recommend this book to anyone interested not only in poetry but also collective liberation.

[Sam · Rating 2 out of 5]

1.5/5

While I’m sure this was written with good intentions…it is incredibly self-centred. Very much a case of taking the focus away from Palestinian voices to focus on allyship. Lots of the poems just felt like the poet wanted us to nod and be like “yes, you’re SUCH a good ally for writing this!” I don’t know y’all something rubbed me the wrong way.

Beyond that, structurally very messy anyways so there’s that too.

[Iara Moure · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yo se que tengo que leer la descripcion del libro y no basarme en el titulo o en la portada. Tambien se que el arte es una manera de protestar sobre las injusticias del mundo en el que vivimos, pero, hay veces que se vuelve muy repetitivo y quiero creer que si, en parte el libro es original, siento que estoy leyendo lo mismo que en otros libros con el mismo tema.

[Rachel Drrmrmrr · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's hard to rate this but the collection is really wonderful. Personally think forging indigenous connections to better understand oppressive and violent colonialist practices is always worthwhile.

The vulnerability here and owning up to a lack in understanding and processing the horrors in real time? I think more people can and do identify with that than they'd like to admit.

[C · Rating 4 out of 5]

Arc review.

This book is just pain and tears.
The book is about what is happening, what happened in the past and is going to be happening in the future.
It makes you feel a lot about the situation in Palestine.
It makes you think.
100 poems.

Thank you so much to everyone for the arc.

[Venneh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Solid poetry collection done by an Indigenous Canadian poet as they witness the ongoing genocide in Palestine.

[Ebele · Rating 5 out of 5]

my heart ached while reading evey poem. it felt like I was right there with each poet as they described the pain and loss that this genocide has caused them.
may each soul be free from oppression

[Rachael Jakubowski · Rating 4 out of 5]

You can feel the sadness on every page. The similarities in past, present, and eventual future. Brilliantly written, makes you think and absolutely makes you feel.

[Helena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Born Sacred: Poems for Palestine is a collection of 100 poems by Smokii Sumac (they/he). These poems, written between October 2023 and April 2024, reflect on Palestine, colonial violence, and the struggles of Indigenous people around the globe. Most importantly, this book refuses to normalize this violence, and instead commits to empathy, solidarity, and truth.

As a member of the Ktunaxa nation, Sumac aptly draws parallels between the struggles of Palestinians and the Indigenous Peoples of Canada. The poet points out the similarities between residential school denialism and denialism of the ongoing genocide in Palestine, noting that what we are witnessing is settler colonialism and empire in action. This is important to recognize because settler colonialism is a part of the history of so-called Canada—it’s how the country was created. Understanding the interconnected nature of these struggles is crucial to standing in solidarity and working towards liberation.

This book reads like a diary and I think it effectively conveys the everyday grief that comes with bearing witness to a live-streamed genocide. Sumac captured a lot of my own feelings in their poems and I’m grateful to see work like this because it’s a reminder that I’m not alone in my grief and anger.

These poems hold space for the world’s collective grief, and refuse to give in to apathy. Born Sacred is unwavering in its belief that change is possible, and invites us to sit with our grief and remember that we can all take action to create a better world.

Thank you Fernwood Publishing for providing me with an e-ARC of this book to review.