observations

From the sky, it all looks small
especially humans, like tiny ants
the ego dissipates

A wedding, unnecessary

There's an air that surrounds you
when you sit wrapping the night like a shawl

- that there have been silver linings, yours copper
- that there are smiles and expressions of love, yours void
- that there is another way to pick roses, yours is to plant
- that there are memories made between the laughs, your phone saves coversation
- that there is a new beggining

the night, cold wraps itself around your shoulders
when at the wedding you sit to think
of different ways to spell love
without slashing your wrists open by its glass.

Fear and fire

Like a wildfire, it will eat up with its arms
all the sides of yourself you were keeping safe
this fear

a country of 3adi, normal

Adi', is the way we spell normal
like it doesn't hurt to breathe at times
Adi' is the longest wait before going home
not because the traffic is hell but because
the sea of cars isn't moving. Adi, is the youth
wasting hours of their lives struggling to be
clearheaded enough to take a jump. Adi, is a country of normal
where everything and anything is of itself a story
Adi, is the country where death walks hand in hand
with life, like an old bride and a groom.
Adi is the abnormality, of getting used to normal.

When I'm sick

When I'm sick
my mind is at its sharpest in math

calculating distances without touching
 on the times I shivered like a leaf

near the black board with the thought
that a pit of numbers will take me down

my dreams are different now
they are closer to touch

salty on my tongue
yet it remains a sharp brain in math

and a poor lung.

if all of this fighting went to rest

If all of this fighting went to rest,
he asks, face twisted like three branches loose
where would we bury newly minted weapons?

Things to do with anger 3

of the things you can do with your anger
is stop answering the phone, hang it up
with its own chords to choke away the noise
of the requests lining up on your door.

one hundred and two years old

one hundred and two years old
we are turned away from the face of the fire

by virtue of one document
oh, how important is paper to this land

taken out of the roots of its olives
splashed with the ink of hundreds tears

black as the day we were signed off
a place for no one, left for everyone

this is the fate of nations
for their kindness, a blow on the head

an increased hundred and two
years of pain washed out with sea-salt.

going back home

I am finally back 

you write to me 

I slip between sleep 

and waking to ask you 

what has been the most apparent 

difference you've seen over 

my body, the trees or the clear skies 

I hear you say 

the air, its different

smells like my childhood and your perfume. 

things to do with anger 2

of the things you can do with your anger
is stand atop of a mountain and shout it out
hoping that the echo doesn't just
bring it all back.

Things to do with anger 1

of the things you can do with your anger 

is make a ball of paper 

throw it out in the nearest bin 

Chores

The pan's lifted out of the fire
no burnt, the food filling stomachs

the sheets dry with the tinge
of the sweat that lined them for days

the boots all sparkling clear
of the dusk walked over in the streets

there is so much order in the house
where does this silence come from, then?

wearing pain in a disguise

Three blows and a pinch
on the cheek

you still think
your hand is kind

wearing pain in a disguise

repetition, creation, repetition

The will to create
evaporates
with banality of repetition

for my birthday

The ink poured
out of my hands
ruining all the paper you gave me
for my birthday