First Isolated Moments

Wondering who you are?

You’re the purple scar that appears for no reason,

The images that give rise to nostalgia without features,

You are the ecstasy that did not complete,

A torment that lasted for an entire lifetime.

You...

You're like a trip I’ve been saving for months,

and when it was time to go,

I felt a desire not to leave.

“And if happiness visits you again, do not remember its previous betrayal..Let that happiness in, and burst!”

-Mahmoud Darwish

Painting by : Jana Brike

"Onu ölesiye seviyor musun?" diye sordular.

"Mezarımda ondan bahset ve beni nasıl hayata döndürdüğünü izle" dedim.

- Mahmoud Darwish

This sea is mine

What was mine: my yesterday. What will be mine: the distant tomorrow, and the return of the wandering soul as if nothing had happened. A slight cut in the arm of the absurd present, History mocks its victims and its heroes, It glances at them in passing and goes on. So i tell you ; This sea is mine. The fresh air is mine. And my name, though i mispronounce it over the grave, is mine. As for me, filled with every reason to departure, I am not mine. I am not mine. I am not mine.

| Mahmoud Darwish

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,

By each let this be heard: Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword! Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Gold: The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold. Some love too little, some too long, Some sell and others buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die.

Oscar Wilde

During times of war

I want to say: I only love you, And I cling to you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like a knife that clings to the wound, And like a bullet that clings to my heart,

I love you…

~ Nizar Qabbani

Divide me with fatigue,

for I need a sore chest to cry on. Like you, I have something made of glass, and the chests of those who are comfortable, are made of marble. Return to my world so that I may rest, for I love you even when I’m tired.

A Night Beneath the Palm’s Shadow

The wind hums secrets through the date-laden trees, whispering names of those who once walked this dust, where footprints fade but never truly leave, pressed deep in the memory of the earth’s quiet trust.

Oh, moon of longing, hung low and bright, do you still remember the songs we sang? Verses embroidered in the fabric of night, soft as jasmine, where old echoes hang.

A mother calls, her voice a prayer, threading through the hush of dawn, her hands—cracked, but full of care— building futures from threads long gone.

And here I stand, between past and now, a daughter of sand, of stars, of sea, asking the wind to teach me how to love, to lose, yet still be free.

Cain

Cain now beats with a bird made of shale He descends to the earth and showers it- with tremendous rains of fire. Towers and houses collapse before its desolation The dead escape from the embrace of the earth upwards Cain is now floating around in his tank The sheep were terrified Cain is tearing down the wall of his barn Since night turns to morning in the village, the barn is not suitable for sleeping. Emitted by the light coming down Like a dragon's tongue Hurricane ravaged the face of the earth

by: Mohammad Al-Buraiki