He asks me not to love too hard because he might shatter, and when the moon finally swells I ask it to shimmer on him, perhaps it could numb him, enough to love again He asks me not to sit too close because he might fall in love, and I wish he would fall in love, with me so that the distance between us stuffs with our bodies He doesn’t examine me when he speaks he’s nervous to notice his reflection in my eyes and acknowledge that he fits in them he’s fearful of loving, me and I’m afraid to fall in love, with him [But not enough] He asks me not to graze him so softly because his skin might get addicted, to my touch and I have never wished addiction on anyone before But I wished he’d get dependent, on me The moon climbs every night every forlorn night, and when it moves I ask him to love me like the moon loves me [like the moon sleeps next to me like the moon graces my night] But he insists not to read him my poetry because he might never want to abandon my poetry and my poetry requires him to be poetry [I wish he knew that ] When the moon conceals my lover disappears with it, and I wish I knew how broken hearts fall in love.
-
Checkpoint Poetics: What a Soviet Poet Taught Me About Moral Resistance

I’ve been thinking a lot about borders; the literal ones drawn across maps, manned by uniformed strangers. And the metaphorical ones—the quiet, invisible lines we learn to draw within ourselves when speaking too loudly, or loving too openly, become dangerous. Lately, I’ve been immersed in the writing of Osip Mandelstam, a Soviet poet who dared…
-
The Fools Who Rule: A Brief History of Power and Absurdity

There’s something darkly mirthful about power. Not the kind of hilarity that leaves you breathless from laughter, but the kind that makes you exhale sharply through your nose and mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” In all its forms, power seems to have a gravitational pull toward absurdity. Maybe it’s the unchecked authority, the…
-
Struggle for Identity: Navigating Assimilation and Ancestry | Poem

The author grapples with proving their existence in face of assimilation. They express longing for their roots and the challenge of preserving their identity in a world that distorts and erases it. The poignant narrative depicts a struggle for recognition and belonging, highlighting the complexities of cultural displacement and identity.
-
Fraudulent Peace: Why the Two-State Solution Doesn’t Work

Background The Israeli-Palestinian conflict embodies a stark injustice, with Palestinians enduring decades of dispossession, displacement, and occupation. Rooted in colonialism and ethnic cleansing, this asymmetrical struggle epitomizes the denial of Palestinian rights and sovereignty. Despite international calls for a two-state solution, it has become increasingly clear that such a framework fails to address the fundamental…
-
The Doves of My City

Over the mountain, my doves breatheSmuggling jasmine roses to the cityThe smell of spring, mixed with enmityIn a vase, I stash my rosesnestled between my sheetsEvery petal – aligns a memory in meWhen the soldiers march, I pleaWhere will my doves go, once I leave the city?Silver feathersdrop from the skyThe dove sits patienton a…
-
There to Here

From there, I once believed bullets could pierce the clouds, shatter the skyVinegar chips meld with a zaatar mankoushe, biting Wednesdays and chocolate croissantsPunctuated weeps,”Mama, can we get ka’ak tonight?”Behind the wheel, Baba immerses the dawn in Fayruz’s melodiesThe clock’s hands trace his feet at 7 am -He vanishes, leaving spectral substitutesTurning 25, amto’s greeting…
-
From Alawite Heritage to Ancient Christmas Traditions

A Journey Through Unique Beliefs and Global Celebrations Growing up in the rich tapestry of Alawite heritage has been a journey steeped in resilience and unique religious practices. Originating from the Canaanite people in modern-day Iraq, my ancestors sought refuge from religious persecution in the 10th century, ultimately finding a home in Syria’s Latakia province.…
-
Book Review: “Minor Detail” by Adania Shibli

Adania Shibli’s “Minor Detail” masterfully unfolds as a stark narrative divided into two acts, past and present, both haunting and unnerving. The Nakba, symbolizing the Palestinian catastrophe during Israel’s 1948 War of Independence, serves as the temporal bridge between the novel’s halves, challenging static notions of history. Shibli’s sharp prose, vividly translated by Elisabeth Jaquette,…
-
Excerpt from “Rebirth”

Do you remember how you used to slap me if I cried? I’ve come to understand that perhaps you were imitating your mother’s brash touch, and that it wasn’t your fault. It’s taken me a long time to forgive you, but I have. I even empathize with your impulse to hurt a weeping child, especially…
-
Miniature Biography

I asked my mother to make me a tiny piano out of fuzzy beads. Want to see? With one eye closed, I see mother. And with the other eye closed, I see father. And wide, I see myself. That’s funny. Are dreams real and why does the moon follow me at night? Can you separate…
-
Narrated for You

insert my name, and I activate. A misunderstood poem, i’m only a song A tune you liberate in your studio; i’m nothing without your name just a corrupted audio. Words reform in your notebook, verses and chorus, no hook align my empty pages with music notes compose me until I become whole. A horrid melody…
-
Rebirth – Excerpt

Amidst shattered homes and echoes of muffled gunfire, life as a Syrian refugee was an unending cycle of resilience and despair. Death, once a distant spectre, has now woven its sombre threads into the fabric of our existence. It was as though we had become accustomed to its chilling embrace, always lurking in the shadows,…
-
Bad Dates (Repost)

Crippling conversations, words stagnant and rancid on the tongue Examen every corner of the cafe, occasionally outlining your features the strand of hair poking out of your head, defying attempts to tame it, taunts me I can’t help but fixate on the stories your hands illustrate, as they dance in the air, as if I…
-
My Grandmother was the River (Repost)

She drapes her boughs around my fragile frame as she kneads my hair. Her fingers mimic a rhythmic pulse, unmatched by any other element of nature. She tells me I have my mother’s hair, thick, moon-glazed waves, running down my spine like the Jordan River. Waves of strands crawled gently to shore, creeping steadily towards…
-
Rebirth – Excerpt

In the midst of shattered homes and echoes of distant gunfire, life as a Syrian refugee was an unending cycle of resilience and despair. Death, once a distant specter, had now woven its somber threads into the very fabric of daily existence. It was as though we had become accustomed to its chilling embrace, always…
-
Can You Turn the Faucet off?

Drip, drip, a rhythmic tale the house whispers in anxiety’s defense a story untold, a narrative within its walls Voices barge through A subtle prompt, a dual-edged sword both plaguing and soothing, tension unfolds a soft refrain, arousing thought, inviting contemplation The faucet’s gentle murmur, a tormentor’s lullaby nature’s hushed secrets, a relentless throng a…
-
Possibilities

It requires an immense amount of courage to adapt to the trivialities of life, to find strength in the mundane. How do you do it? How do you navigate through the complexities of existence and emerge with resilience? The world pauses in awe at the sight of your eyes, a captivating force that holds everything…
-
I Hate Her

the silence stretches between us pushing our bodies to shore, we exchange bland words bitterness lingering on our tongues and, our hands haven’t encountered yet a magnetic force both pulls and repels drawing us near, only to propel us away her essence eludes me, enveloped in a dialect known solely to her I yearn to…
-
Cigarettes and Lovers

his lips are addicted to the taste of nicotine and coffee, a penchant for bitterness he embraces – the tendrils of smoke every 27 minutes [and yes, I’ve counted each fleeting minute] his gaze finds me at the 50th minute it’s absurd to envy a cigarette’s allure, I know yet, why can’t he crave the…
-
Journal Entry – August 14th

I find myself within the confines of a café in Downtown Montreal, the ambient chatter of patrons serves as a backdrop to the storm raging within me. My phone becomes both a lifeline and a source of unease, each passing minute intensifying the anxiety that courses through my veins. A heaviness clings to my chest,…
-
My Window Overlooks There

through the window’s pane a fleeting glimpse of life’s snare curiosity’s flame yearns venturing realms is it a spirit craving an elusive taste escaping the confines of solitude or is it comfort, of the old a sanctuary of dreams? Perhaps, a wild uncharted domain, awaits a tapestry woven from stars whispering mysteries that only they…
-
Journal Entry – July 2022

Reflections on August 2023 In 2021, I experienced a year of goodness and warmth, a period that now seems like a distant memory. As I reflect upon the timeline of my life, August 2023 emerges as a significant turning point. It stands as a bridge, connecting what I walked away from and the unknown that…
-
Survivor’s Guilt

Amidst shattered homes and echoes of muffled gunfire, life as a Syrian refugee was an unending cycle of resilience and despair. Death, once a distant spectre, has now woven its sombre threads into the fabric of our existence. It was as though we had become accustomed to its chilling embrace, always lurking in the shadows,…
-
Tapestry of Human Existence

Freedom, a wild dance of liberty the untamed rhythm of boundless possibilities a zephyr of self— the essence Freedom, a majestic albatross Unfettered— by earthly constraints, Effortlessly, boundless firmament aspirations take wing a captive’s stride beyond prison’s grasp, sensing the caress of open space beyond captivity, their heartbeats harmonize with the cadence of autonomy a…
-
Ode to Palestine

Hazel’s strands burble down her spine, seizing the Jordan River Stacked with bare feet, toddling her back, she’s an orphan river Wide hips and slender waist, curves emulating the streets of Ghaza Grandmother, can I braid your hair? It’s as silky as a bourbon river Honey drips from between her thighs, sweet enough to make…
-
Hard to Love – Part II

In the tapestry of life, some dance in the spotlight, their names etched in golden letters upon the hearts of others. The chosen ones are the recipients of love’s tender caress, and they bask in the warmth of adoration. Yet, amidst the scope of affection, there exists a corner where I reside—a place untouched by…
-
Letters to Him – Part III

we meet once more, you seem smaller or I’ve grown tall I’m now a woman, you claim, yet you adore the little girl you once desired, enthralled I clench my teeth, forced smile on display, encountering you burns my very skin In terror, I blare, unable to look away, you, my abuser, now in my…
-
He tells me not to love

he tells me not to love too fiercely afraid of shattering fragile glass as the moon swells, i ask it to shimmer on him hoping it might numb his pain igniting love once again he warns against sitting too close fearful of falling in love’s embrace, yet i yearn for him to be enchanted by…
-
Voicemails

“Hello, you’ve reached Lama. I’m currently unavailable to answer your call. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience. Thank you.” “Hi, it’s your sister. I have some sad news to share. Daisy has passed away. I know you loved her too, and it’s tough losing a companion. Whenever you…
-
Conversations with God – Part III

Always beneath your feet I find myself, begging for forgiveness, I don’t deserve I ask for mercy, for I’m a lost soul, seeking belonging in your creation’s curve Yet this place you’ve produced, I don’t desire, existence here brings nothing but anguish though your blessings I acknowledge, inspire, living for you is a demanding lavish…
-
Pine Trees

The trees whisper secrets of desolate parks and abandoned streets Pine trees stoically endure the drought’s relentless grip Keeping their distance, their branches cautious, never to entwine In the tangled pleats of uncertainty and shifting winds — With the arrival of July, prosperity blooms in vibrant hues Their roots intertwined, deep in the earth’s nurturing…
-
Ticks

Trembling fingers hover, poised above the expanse Weathered and chapped, edges frayed and worn, – In a resonant harmony with the ticking clock, the letters rise As my fingers grow nimble, setting them free, Gliding effortlessly across the polished silver – The ticks, a steady pulse woven into the fabric of my days, An acquired…
-
Rebirth – Excerpt

Chapter One: The Early Phase IN PROGRESS December 2014 “Yara,” my mother called, beckoning me from the depths of my dimmed room. I lay on my bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing against my stomach as if a heavy pillar threatened to pull me through the very mattress. Reluctantly, I switched off the…
-
Book Review – A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

A Thousand Splendid Suns is an extraordinary work of historical fiction that captivates readers from the first page to the last. Khaled Hosseini’s ability to craft deeply layered characters, evoke powerful emotions through vivid imagery, and explore complex themes with grace and sensitivity make this novel a truly unforgettable reading experience. It’s a testament to…
-
Bad Dates (Revised)
Crippling conversations, stale words taste rancid Examen every corner of the café, occasionally outlining your features The strand of hair poking out of your head, defying attempts to tame it, taunts me, I can’t fixate on the memoirs your hands illustrate, wiggling around as if I can’t envision what a classroom looks like it’s not…
-
There is a boy on the moon, and he calls for me every night

Every night, I have an unyielding ache- a homesickness – for the boy who finds solace on the moon, distant and faint. One fateful night, he sailed across the velvet sky, guiding me away from the lamenting lovers, who pleaded and ached in vain. Through familiar streets, he led me, until we reached the vast…
-
Hard to Love – Part II

In the tapestry of life, there are those who dance in the spotlight, their names etched in golden letters upon the hearts of others. The chosen ones, are the recipients of love’s tender caress, and they bask in the warmth of adoration. Yet, amidst the scope of affection, there exists a corner where I reside—a…
-
how do people fall in love?

the silence between us stretches, a vast expanse that widens our separation we exchange bland words, leaving a bitterness on our tongues and, our hands have yet to meet, yearning for a touch unknown there exists a magnetic force, drawing us near, only to repel us further into the depths of distance she eludes me,…
-
Apologies

I apologize, mama, for peering through the tapestry of your wrinkles I apologize, baba, for concealing you beneath woven rugs I apologize, khaye, for contorting your limbs to mirror my own Forgive me, asdiqa, I pledge to unblock the exits in the labyrinth of our conversations Forgive me, hubiy, I vow to never plunge into…
-
Unread Love Letters – III

It requires an immense amount of courage to adapt to the trivialities of life, to find strength in the mundane. How do you do it? How do you navigate through the complexities of existence and emerge with resilience? The world pauses in awe at the sight of your eyes, a captivating force that holds everything…
-
June 6, 2006 – June 6, 2023

Seventeen years has slipped away since the June 2006 Beirut war, yet its weight still rests heavily upon my shoulders. As I mark this solemn anniversary, memories surge like relentless waves, threatening to engulf me in their chilling embrace. The passage of time has done little to ease the grip of scars etched upon my…
-
The June War of 2006

Excerpt from “Rebirth” The scorching June nights were merciless, but my mother’s touch had a soothing effect. She would wave her hand in a futile attempt to create a cooling breeze, her compassionate heart driving her actions. However, her efforts were in vain against the relentless heat that plagued us that night in 2006. The…
-
Journal Entry – April 7,2022

My cousin’s visitor visa was rejected two months ago, a fact I have concealed from him until now. The weight of this secret has rested solely upon my shoulders, unshared with even a single soul. The time has come for me to muster the courage and reach out to him, to break the deafening silence…
-
Rebirth

Introduction We journey through life with the belief that we’re granted a single start, a blank canvas upon which we imprint our footsteps. From the moment we draw our first breath, our personal chronicles begin to take shape, comprising a tapestry of experiences. We’re denied the luxury of revising our stories or rewriting our destinies—or…
-
There’s something so inherently tragic about surviving.

There’s something so inherently tragic about surviving.
-
Alberta’s Book Ban: A Dystopian Reality

They say words have power; in Alberta this fall, they are also being held accountable. The weight of this power is evident as classics such as 1984, The Handmaid’s Tale, and Brave New World have been marched off the shelves—not with a bang, but with the muted bureaucracy of a book-ban policy that swept through…
-
Decoding “Sinners:” A Vampire Film with Cultural Depth

When Ryan Coogler’s Sinners hit theatres this spring, I expected style, atmosphere, and a dose of supernatural dread. What I didn’t expect was a politically charged, allegorical horror epic that tackles cultural appropriation, the cycles of colonization, and the politics of assimilation—all set to the raw pulse of 1930s juke joint blues. This film doesn’t…



Leave a comment