At a still dawn

Our earth awakes to a call.
From within itself a voice
Lays truth, an amber spell.

She pulls across her body
The sunlight shawl of morning,
Across amber fields of barley,
The swell of dew filled dreaming .

Two golden seas mix, this instant,
And truths blend,indifferent;
For what is taken… is uplifted.

Let the leaves of the olive tree,
Let a past’s youthful brew.
Let me hear their silence be
A prayer she listens to.

I dont usually ask for input, but I’d love to hear your reactions to this one if you may :).

~Love and Peace


A Window sort of Frame

One day I sat in a wooden frame
That I found in the attic,
And as I thought all stills the same,
I set out to frame some music.

And what trouble did it seem,
To make this fancy true,
That I didn’t think of a likely thing
And think of a window!

So I took a hammer and the frame
And thought of every sound
That never could be heard in dream,
But could be by a window found!

I dedicate this poem to siti (my grandmother) who spends long hours by a window reading the Quran, or watching us children play. I love her greater than life.


A different joy

Sparrows are bells strung
In the unending celebration
Hidden in the wind.

And the wind recites
A thousand pages,
Of a thousand olive trees.

And the olive trees
Drink the sweat
Of my father.

And he holds me.
In his arms still…
As the arms of Palestine.


So I wrote this very briefly and didnt think to revise it. It was a result of happiness and relief I felt so briefly in this valley of our struggling reality. Its free as verse gets, and I really like it, Id like to think of it as an entire moment of confession and submission to the honesty of joy.  But you may think what kind of joy is this, this joy is hope. So, I hope you enjoy it 🙂

This is a picture of hope I took on the wall in the  West Bank.Image