This poem was originally written in Arabic
BY REFAAT ALAREER
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewel...... reply
Framed by pretty sunset
Mixed with sea scent
Sweet aroma that's being carried by the wind
As I walk through the path behind your well defined back
That's the last thing I want to remember of you
My beloved
My one
My only
My forever
Now our story remain only as an old memory
It's all because those cursed words you keep saying to me
Skibidi dob...... 1 reply
Sunday, Wounded - Leslie Sainz
The walls of Santa Rita swell like a capillary.
Hundreds of mother-wives,
dressed as doves,
recite their reasons:
For the steel-held.
Para la malasangre.
To argue on behalf of ghosts.
Outside the church, men
with bladed knuckles
intimidate for sport.
They lean on their old, rectangular cars,
make smoke on command.
�...... reply
I wrote these for an english class years ago so please be nice
Dawn had never felt more alive
Our days cast red in the sun's anger
Smoke grasps at our breath
Waves reach for the shore in anguish
Cries ring in our minds
Sinful whispers ruffle the forest
Hollowness settles in the people
Our voices ripped from our chests-
Hearts carried off wit...... reply
I wrote this in my depressed era
Forgotten Injuries
One day someone fell onto the ground on accident. Their knee collided with the harsh gravel and it created a painful injury.
After a few days the wound started to heal itself. But the person fell again and injured the same place again, but this time it didn’t hurt as much but the person still ...... reply
