Tag: Muhammad

GATES OF GRIEF WARMED


At thirty-four years old, I'm still experiencing psychic illness. 
Why are my grief warmed gates sealed, I wonder? 
Who made me miserable because I missed you, brother? 
I weep thirsty, but the clouds and the rain do not seem to be satisfied. 

From my depressed expression, the candle learns to cry. 
Your perfume teaches my depressed face to read poetry.   
Your fragrance learns to fade without getting in my way. 
My habits of smoking and consuming alcohol have caused 
damage to my throat. 

Using brutal chains of no mercy, accept me for who I am. 
I don't have the right to wish for dreams like the previous  
children that passed away. They passed away without leaving a  
name, having learned the meaning of both love and war. 
As though angels of God. 


GRADUATION PARTY  

Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad 
were three of my most powerful pals. 
They each had a flower in the vase and 
our enemy destroyed all the vases and  
stole all their flowers. 

I recall their parents having inscribed. 
their names on their two arms and legs. 
Just to be able to track them down after 
graduation party. We often forget about 
our assignments because of armed troops. 

"Evacuate, damn it!" they yelled at our door. 
Ignoring the agony of an empty stomach, 
Ignoring the stillness, Ignoring the absence 
of our grandfathers, who taught us to live 
and die for the soil and air of free Palestine. 

We buried our hopes behind the fig and olive. 
trees because we wanted to live, to love, 
and to be free of the vocabulary of callous 
conflicts that neglected mankind. 
Nonetheless, we are still magnificent bare trees.  

Together in the moonless night, 
we prayed then slept in peace until the graduation 
began to draw closer and closer with 
daggers in our hearts, bullets screeching towards 
our chests, missiles burst at the conclusion
of the party.

We were picked up by one of our parents. 
many hours later. Whether you believe it or not! 
We're all in the same bloody coffin. We wonder. 
whether when the people of the globe cease turning 
our reality the other way, they want to deafen both ears
and blind both eyes. 


UNTOLD HABITS 

During the present genocide, 
we learn of untold habits. 
My father comes home sad with 
an empty grocery bag, 
which is more than a routine. 

My mother often tells us to  
wash our hands and occasionally our bodies. 
She pretends to prepare, 
places our empty and shattered dishes, 
and then sobs alongside my father. 

Then we all say bismillah 
before we eat and Alhamdulillah's after 
we’ve finished licking our empty fingers. 
We then listen to my parents' prayers as  
we elevate to the skies.