Palm Sunday

He enters Jerusalem
like a soft breeze, on a donkey
we weep the walls that keep falling for him

Stagnation, water

Water that does not travel
becomes stagnant, reeks of smell
don't be like this, states an old friend
who stopped being present in the crucial minutes

Weariness in the step

This land makes me, this land kills the things I love
dreams dreamed out of the clouds
weaved with the sun, everlasting rain
this land makes me, Za'tar
breaks me bread, whole-wheat engulfed
kills the chance of standing on my two feet
without crutches propelling me upwards
this land kills those who love it,
with its thrones, with its rye
with what makes of it, a boundless emptiness
without borders or barb-wires.

Art & a heart

Like a swallow, it arrives
all the art that has been compiled
out of a scratched out heart

Too valuable, these tributes

They have fallen, young jasmine
it is not yet spring- we say
gone too young, those who die for us to live.

Our mothers

Superheroes, without capes
under-celebrated, even when we give flowers
our mothers

Strange Things Come Out of Your Mouth

Strange things come out of your mouth

you hear blame between the breaths

for the thoughts as they line waiting to exit

like preschoolers with heavy backpacks, your head

Read the rest here: https://visualverse.org/submissions/strange-things-come-out-of-your-mouth/