Review
Books
Culture
Joy
Poetry
5 min read

Theresa Lola's poetical hope

The death-haunted yet lyrical, joyful and moving poet for a new generation.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A poet stands and speaks, raising an arm.
Theresa Lola performs at Kings Place.
Cosmic Shambles Network.

There are poems such as T.S. Eliot's ‘Journey of the Magi’ and U.A. Fanthorpe's ‘BC – AD’ which have become staples of Christmas Carol services. Last Christmas, for the first time, I used Theresa Lola's ‘Look at the Revival’ as the poem in our Carol Service that explored the experience of the Magi in seeking and finding Jesus.   

‘Look at the Revival’ was commissioned by National Gallery in 2020 in response to ‘The Adoration of Kings’ painting by Jan Gossaert. The poem is written in the voice of Balthazar, the Black King in the painting, and explores the painting’s themes of rupture, transformation and renewal. It ends with this reflection: 

My job often feels like a hefty stone 

But today I am powered by a fierce awe. 

  

I say to the stunned people let us look deeply 

to know this hope deeply. 

British Nigerian poet and former Young People’s Laureate for London, Lola is the British equivalent of Amanda Gorman, whose poem ‘The Hill We Climb’ made such an impact at US President Joe Biden's inauguration. Lola said after that event that “To have poetry make national headlines … was just so exciting” and to have Gorman’s poem articulate everyone’s feelings “was just the perfect example of what poetry can do”. 

There is a real art to writing poetry for public occasions where depth and immediacy need to intertwine. It is an art that Lola herself has mastered, as was demonstrated when she was commissioned by the Mayor of London’s Office to write and read a poem - ‘For Those Who Listen When Courage Calls’ - at the unveiling of Millicent Fawcett’s statue in Parliament Square. 

Lola was joint-winner in 2018 of the Brunel International African Poetry Prize and was featured in the 2019 ‘Forces for Change’ issue of British Vogue as a next generation talent. Other commissions for her work, which explores themes of self-discovery, transformation, cultural heritage, and belonging, have included Selfridges, Rimowa, Royal Festival Hall, and Audible. She is currently leading the Volunteer Interpreter Programme at Dulwich Picture Gallery where, in a programme inspired by their Soulscapes exhibition, she is exploring how poetry can be used to interpret their collection.  

“This poet speaks boldly of prayer as a call to arms for family, for love, for a survival, which as she concludes in the final poem, ‘Psalm 151’, ‘I prayed my fists into’”

S. Niroshini

Her debut poetry collection ‘In Search of Equilibrium’, which was hailed as “powerful and rigorous”, is an extraordinary, and exacting study of death and grieving. The reviews of this collection have much to say about the well springs of her work.  

In this collection, as S. Niroshini writes, she “deftly deploys form, texture, and shape to interrogate the meaning of death and the suffering of family” with poems “variously presented as computer coding, live reportage, prayers, algorithms, Wikipedia entries and hip-hop lyrics”. While its subject matter is, as Carmina Masoliver notes, “essentially natural – life and death”, the poems themselves are often experimental and “bring in cultural elements … as well as religious allusions”. Charlie Hill explains that “This superb debut collection revolves around the death of the poet’s grandfather, whose Alzheimer’s resulted in a ‘four-year funeral’”. Laurie Smith suggests “It is rare for a debut collection by a young poet to be so death-haunted, but it is death-haunted in the same sense as [Sylvia] Plath’s ‘Ariel’ and [Anne] Sexton’s ‘To Bedlam and Part Way Back’.” He writes that “The comparison isn’t fanciful” as “Lola’s writing has a similar vividness and strength”. 

Masoliver notes that “The collection is book-ended with Lola’s own prayer and psalm”. “From the first,” she suggests, “there is an expression of doubt about the poet’s faith, though holding onto it ‘even when I fear God might be a thin shadow’”. Yet, “By the time we get to the final poem, there is a loss of innocence to the reality of the world around us, but a certain strength that comes with ‘fighting darkness’”. Niroshini states that “This poet speaks boldly of prayer as a call to arms for family, for love, for a survival, which as she concludes in the final poem, ‘Psalm 151’, ‘I prayed my fists into’”. 

Lola has said that “The writing of the collection was emotionally challenging as the poems touch on sensitive topics about death, faith, family and mental health.” For her, “writing poetry has been a ‘therapeutic tool’, a ‘healthy listening ear’ and a way to express her struggles, be they anxiety or … grief”. Nevertheless, she also says: “My poems always suggest and show hope no matter how gritty the subject is! I do write poems that are centred around my faith, and that hope in my faith is Jesus”. 

Many reviewers note Lola’s ability to write lines, such as ‘sweeping me off my bones’, “that stop you dead”. Hannah Williams was particularly moved by lines from ‘Blessed Are the Mothers of a Dead Child’: 

Blessed are the mothers of a dead child 

for they manage to recover 

after eating the fruit that grows 

from planting your child’s casket in the ground. 

Hill cites the final lines of the same poem: 

My grandmother tries to celebrate the brief beauty of his breath. 

She says what use is sweeping grief under the carpet 

when you can blend it to find the drop of sanity that will flow from it. 

to suggest that it is here that the equilibrium sought in the collection’s title is to be found. 

The Sunday Times Style Magazine has described Lola as being among “the ranks of an exciting new wave of young female bards who are widening the appeal of poetry for a new generation”. As a result, the imminent prospect of a second collection from her is a particularly exciting prospect. Look out later in the year, then, for ‘Ceremony for the Nameless’ which is described as exploring the act of naming and its role in shaping our identities, our aspirations, what we carry and how we belong. In lyrical, joyful and moving poems, Lola will explore the ways our journey through life might require us to cast off old expectations – both others’ and our own – just as at other times it can bring us back, strangely and unexpectedly, to where we first began.  

This returns us to Balthazar and his journey of discovery. So, as he states: “let us look deeply / to know this hope deeply.”  

Review
Culture
Film & TV
Monsters
War & peace
6 min read

The Fantastic Four taught me about family, truth and the end of the world

The whole film has a grown-up sophistication about what really matters.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

THe Fantastic Four stand on a podium
Walt Disney Studios.

I’ve just been to see the The Fantastic Four: First Steps, and honestly, I think it’s brilliant. It’s my favourite Marvel film in a long time. I might have to go all the way back to Guardians of the Galaxy to find something as funny, engaging, and moving. There’s a lightness to it, but also a surprising depth. 

First of all, the setting. It’s done in this beautiful, kitschy 1960s style—retro aesthetics, clean design, soft colours. It’s subtle, not forced, and it gives the whole film a kind of grown-up sophistication. Then there’s the casting—each of them is just spot on. Vanessa Kirby plays Sue Storm as an independent, intelligent, maternal powerhouse. And Pedro Pascal’s Reed Richards—brilliant but vulnerable—brings something pretty human to the role of a superhero. Even through the layers of CGI animation, Ebon Moss-Bachrach brings pathos and quiet dignity to the role of Ben Grimm aka The Thing.  

But what really grabbed me wasn’t just the style, the humour or the casting—it was the themes. At the heart of this film are some big, timely questions: about family, about sacrifice, about truth—and about how we respond when the world is falling apart. 

The power of sacrifice 

Here’s the big plot point—and this is not a spoiler because it’s in the trailer—the Fantastic Four are about to become the Fantastic Five. Sue Storm aka The Invisible Woman is pregnant. She portrays well that beautiful mix of nervous excitement that every expectant parent knows. But because she and Reed Richards aka Mr Fantastic are becoming parents with superpowers and gamma radiation in play there is an additional fear and uncertainty about their unborn child. In the middle of this domestic intimacy things escalate. A threat emerges—Galactus, a cosmic entity capable of devouring entire planets. Sue and Reed are given an impossible ultimatum: to relinquish their unborn child to Galactus and save the world or keep their child and see the world destroyed.  

The film could have taken the easy route and made the unborn child symbolic or vague. But instead, it takes this child seriously. There’s a very beautiful moment where Sue uses her invisibility powers to reveal their baby as a fit and healthy little boy asleep in her womb. He is real, precious and non-negotiable.  

The heroes will not even consider sacrificing the unborn child. They are willing to give up their own lives. They are willing to risk everything they have. But they won’t hand over their child to save the planet. 

That hit me hard in a culture where the idea of sacrificing a child—or at least, the rights of the unborn—has become politically and ethically contested. People take a range of views on the issue, but here is this blockbuster superhero movie saying: “No. Even if the planet is at stake, this child matters.”  This is a brave, countercultural stance that surprised me.  

It is also particularly poignant given a view that is becoming more widespread: some people are suggesting that in order to save the planet, we should stop having children. Clearly they genuinely believe the world would be better off without future generations. But that logic feels deeply broken. It is as if we are trying to protect the planet from children, instead of for them. 

What this film offers is a total reversal: the child is not the threat—the child is the hope. And for Christians, that resonates. Because at the heart of the gospel is the story of a child—born into a broken world, not to destroy it but to save it. And while Sue and Reed won’t give up their child to save the world, the Christian story is that God did just that.  He was willing to do what this superhero family wouldn’t—sacrifice his Son to save us.  

Truth and politics 

As if the personal and familial dilemma was not enough by itself, the film also raises important political questions. The Fantastic Four are given the ultimatum about saving the world in the privacy of a meeting with Galactus on the other side of the universe. When they finally make it back to earth, they are asked to make a press statement and told to keep it short. 

I found myself willing them to be quiet, to protect the privacy of their decision to save their baby, to save themselves the inevitable backlash, but instead they choose honesty. They tell the world the truth about the impossible decision they had to make—and why they made it. 

In today’s political landscape, that kind of transparency feels rare. We’ve seen moments—during COVID, during the cost-of-living crisis, even around immigration and the rescuing of Afghan families—when the public hasn’t always been trusted with the full picture. Leaders hide behind spin, afraid to speak plainly, or take responsibility. 

In the film we see what happens when the Fantastic Four choose honesty, even as a baying crowd surrounds their base. A speech is made that displays vulnerability, integrity, and courage. It reminded me that truth isn’t just about facts—it’s about trust. The best leaders are those who invite people into difficult conversations, who treat others as grown-ups, who inspire hope rather attract blame.  

How do you face the end of the world? 

It is not unusual for a superhero movie to navigate a global catastrophe, but this time planet earth is given some warning. The Silver Surfer comes as a herald ahead of the impending doom, warning of Galactus’ plan to devour the planet, and challenging people to use their time well, to celebrate life and show love to their families. The Surfer is almost a John the Baptist figure, although the prophet’s advice was repentance not just holding your loved ones closer. God was not coming to consume the earth for his own gratification, but to make the ultimate sacrifice to deal with the problem and reconcile humanity to himself.  

A headline in the Daily Express the other weekend claimed: “Global Crises send GEN Z to church” It does seem that for some young adults there is renewed interest in spiritual things in general and Christianity in particular. Perhaps it really is because the world feels like it is about to implode. With climate crisis, political chaos, and global conflict, people are looking for hope, purpose and salvation in real life as well as in happy endings to movies.  

Fantastic Four really made me think - while also making me laugh about car seats, pregnancy tests and giving birth on a spaceship.  I left feeling encouraged. Not because it offered easy answers, but because it reminded me that love—real, sacrificial, inconvenient, dangerous love—is still heroic. Truth matters. Children matter. Andd all the more so when faced with a brewing apocalypse. 

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