There is absolutely no denying that Phillis Wheatley reaches for transcendence and achieves a type of sublime beauty with this collections of poems. The content is inspired by both the people and events that encompass her lived experience, as well as her explorations of religious spirituality.

Much of Phillis' writing starts with a prompt from her life, which is typically a tragic event, and she then draws from the event's reactionary emotions a greater celestial understanding to make sense of the suffering that she and others are experiencing. As much of her writing does surround making sense of otherwise senseless sorrow, my only criticism lies with her renunciation of her previous life in Africa with the poem, "On being brought from Africa to America":

TWAS mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither fought nor knew,
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
"Their colour is a diabolic die."
Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.

While it makes sense to appreciate knowledge gained from perseverance as a means of making sense of suffering, it is almost sad to read how a type of Western hegemony that belittles non-Christians and people of color, has come to encompass her understanding of the world around her. Then again, this was written and published while she was enslaved, so she could also have very well just been pandering to the people who could grant her freedom. This we will never know.

That one poem aside, much of her work explores the deaths of individuals in her life, and this is where her artistic intention is very clear. One passage from, "On the Death of a young Lady of Five Years of Age," I found to be especially moving:

FROM dark abodes to fair etherial light
Th' enraptur'd innocent has wing'd her flight;
On the kind bosom of eternal love
She finds unknown beatitude above.
This known, ye parents, nor her loss deplore,
She feels the iron hand of pain no more

For the sake of transparency, my uncle passed away this week after leading a hard life, and I was left trying to make sense of the suffering he endured up until the end. Reading Phillis' work has allowed for me some catharsis on this matter. She herself experienced numerous losses and hardships that I could never begin to fathom, so I appreciate and revere her life and work all the more.

If you want to feel something, I would recommend this collection of poems.