‘No life without my family / No mornings without my sun, without my home.’
The Earth is in pain. / It whispers, Stop! Stop!
I try to scrub your absence from my skin / but you were the sunlight, noor.
In the beginning was the Word, / and the Word was watched, / and the watchers were afraid of it.
Yesterday, I was young / my little sister, also young.
Enemies / eating the fruit of our trees / wearing our clothes.
Now all that’s left is ruins / The child and the poet / Both orphans.
Maybe in another life / you would have lost your tooth / instead of your eye.
We were sitting at the harbor / talking about university buses / about crowding / about nothing important.
What does it mean to be / a refugee / To always feel /something missing.
Wash us with the water of hope / and clothe us in a white garment / not a shroud.
A new year, / they say. / But here— / it’s an alarm. / Not hope. / Not renewal.
