there were so many lines that struck me… “There is no return/ that restores me/ to what we were before the leaving.” so moving… i am thankful you shared this poem
There is so much devastating imagery and so much strength and beauty. I found myself thinking of the performance of this poem as a stage play or a dance, a living prayer and a cosmic cry.
Achingly beautiful. Devastatingly sad. I have all of your books. Reading you on this increasingly sullied platform is like finding a ray of light in the darkness. I will reread this and reflect more. Let the words sink slowly in. Thank you.
What else is there to say? This poem embodies so many nuances of exile and loss with the unmistakable specificity of this genocide--the hunger, thirst, dissociation, displacement of the soul while the body is suspended "in every place except the place." I am profoundly moved and humbled, dear Mohammed.
there were so many lines that struck me… “There is no return/ that restores me/ to what we were before the leaving.” so moving… i am thankful you shared this poem
Thank you Sarah!
😭 Straight to the heart.
Thanks a lot Sarah!
There is so much devastating imagery and so much strength and beauty. I found myself thinking of the performance of this poem as a stage play or a dance, a living prayer and a cosmic cry.
Wow, Mohammed. What a piece of writing.
I am so moved by your poem. It is ravishing.
❤️ This is something that only a Palestinian can write
Devastating and Beautiful at the same moment as a lived experience that is still fresh and raw. Thank you for sharing Mohammed♥️🌹
May Palestine be free one day and forever stay that way
Mashallah
🥹✌️🤍
This is superb, Mohammed. Thank you for writing it.
Breathtaking and heartbreaking. Thank you.
Achingly beautiful. Devastatingly sad. I have all of your books. Reading you on this increasingly sullied platform is like finding a ray of light in the darkness. I will reread this and reflect more. Let the words sink slowly in. Thank you.
What else is there to say? This poem embodies so many nuances of exile and loss with the unmistakable specificity of this genocide--the hunger, thirst, dissociation, displacement of the soul while the body is suspended "in every place except the place." I am profoundly moved and humbled, dear Mohammed.
Moved. Speechless.
I will come back to this poem over and over.
Thank you
Absolutely beautiful. Several snippets really hit:
And the artists—
oh, the artists
who do not make beauty
for the approval of the beautiful—
who make it the way the body makes breath,
never for glory,
nor the ledger,
who make it because the lungs
will have it so.
I am free
in the way a torn page is free—
separated from the book,
still bearing the words,
unable to be read
in the sequence
the author intended.
There is a grief for which no elegist has written—
the grief of the person
who finds their country
faithfully reproduced
in every place
except the place
Thank you. Thank you so much.