Obioji invites the reader on an intimate journey through sorrow, memory and self-redemption.

Structured in four sections: Uproots, Goddess, Homecoming and The Titular, Mother, Did You Call My Name? maps the internal terrain of a woman striving to piece herself back together.

Each part builds upon the other, creating a layered narrative that feels deeply personal, yet universally resonant.

At the heart of this collection lies healing and emotional recovery.

Obioji gives voice to the invisible weight many carry: anxiety, burnout, heartbreak, and the constant labour of appearing okay.

Yet, within these same lines, she plants the seeds of resilience.

“Do not water it,” she instructs, reminding us that even though pain, despair, betterness exist, we are not obligated to grow them.

Through poems such as A Remedy for Sadness and When the Grey Days Are Over, the poet gently walks the reader through the ruins of sorrow to the sunrise of hope.

Running parallel is a powerful exploration of womanhood and feminine identity.

In A Woman Unbecoming, Obioji boldly rejects the limitations of patriarchy, proclaiming her refusal to conform to societal expectations.

This recurs through declarations of self-worth, rage against gender roles, and a quiet celebration of self-discovery.

The poems do not shy away from the inner conflict many women face, the push and pull between societal pressure and personal freedom.

One of the most striking aspects of the collection is the deep reverence for motherhood and matrilineal love.

Obioji paints mothers not just as caregivers, but as deities, best friends, warriors and spiritual guides.

The section on Goddess is filled with tributes to her mother, her foremothers and the unbreakable bond between generations of women.

Lines like “my god is a woman/in the image of my mother” redefine spirituality through a maternal lens, challenging traditional representations of divinity. 

This sacred feminine lens also speaks to spirituality and the divine feminine. God is not a distant patriarch in the sky, but a tender presence found in the whispers of a mother, the embrace of a friend, the laughter of a child.

Obioji weaves spirituality seamlessly with lived experience. Miracles happen in shea butter-scented childhood memories, in the rhythm of ancestral prayers and in the resilience of a woman sweeping misogyny out of her space.

A more sobering but equally poignant perspective emerges in the exploration of migration and displacement. In the section on Homecoming, the poet explores the alienation of living in foreign lands, the longing for home and the bittersweet survival of immigrants.

Through vivid imagery, the strangeness of unfamiliar food, and the ache of a mother’s voice across the ocean, Obioji captures the emotional toll of leaving behind everything familiar.

Yet, even in these lines of sorrow, there is strength.

The immigrant’s journey, though marked by loss, is also filled with dreams and a refusal to give up.

Steady affirmation

Throughout the collection, hope and affirmation are steady refrains.

“Everything good will come”, the poet declares repeatedly, like a mantra.

This phrase becomes a lifeline, not just to the speaker, but to the reader.

Obioji doesn’t offer a delusional optimism; rather, she acknowledges the depths of suffering and still chooses to believe in the dawn.

Hope, in her view, is not naïve; it is a radical act of resistance.

Finally, the poetry shines with self-love and empowerment. In the closing sections, we see the speaker coming home to herself, accepting her scars, celebrating her softness and acknowledging her strength. She has become her own sanctuary.

In lines like “I am a feast called happiness” and “The life I want is here, in my hands,” Obioji reclaims her narrative. 

What makes this collection even more remarkable is that its message does not end on paper.

In collaboration with Pen to Print and supported by Arts Council England, Obioji launched the Poems and Feelings Workshop, a safe, reflective space where African migrants and creatives can come together to explore their emotions through poetry. 

Open to both writers and non-writers, the workshop serves as a living extension of the book’s ethos: that healing begins with naming our truths and sharing our stories.

Ghanaian participant Nana Akumfe, who now resides in the UK, shared: “For me, it’s not just about writing, but how this space helps me find meaning and purpose between the chaos of life.”

Another participant, an asylum seeker who requested anonymity, described the sessions as deeply cathartic.

“Through the poetry prompts and writing classes, I’ve used poems as a remedy for my aching heart.

Being in this space makes me feel listened to.”