it’s still too early to make anyone understand
Damn. Already missed a day due to passing out at 9 pm last night.
A Few Reasons to Oppose the War
because wind soughs in the branches of trees
like blood sighing through veins
because in each country there are songs
huddled like wet-feathered birds
because even though the news has nothing new to say
and keeps on saying it
NO still fights its way into the world
because for every bomb that is readied
a baby nestles into her mother
latches onto a nipple beaded with milk
because the tulips have waited all winter
in the cold dark earth
because each morning the wildflowers outside my window
raise their yellow faces to the sun
because we are all so helplessly in love
with the light
-Lisa Suhair Majaj
The Opposite of Nostalgia
You are running away from everyone
who loves you,
from your family,
from old lovers, from friends.
They run after you with accumulations
of a former life, copper earrings,
plates of noodles, banners
of many lost revolutions.
You love to say the trees are naked now
because it never happens
in your country. This is a mystery
from which you will never
recover. And yes, the trees are naked now,
everything that still breathes in them
lies silent and stark
and waiting. You love October most
of all, how there is no word
for so much splendor.
This, too, is a source
of consolation. Between you and memory
everything is water. Names of the dead,
or saints, or history.
There is a realm in which
---no, forget, it,
it’s still too early to make anyone understand.
A man drives a stake
through his own heart
and afterwards the opposite of nostalgia
begins to make sense: he stops raking the leaves
and the leaves take over
and again he has learned
to let go.
-Eric Gamalinda
A Few Reasons to Oppose the War
because wind soughs in the branches of trees
like blood sighing through veins
because in each country there are songs
huddled like wet-feathered birds
because even though the news has nothing new to say
and keeps on saying it
NO still fights its way into the world
because for every bomb that is readied
a baby nestles into her mother
latches onto a nipple beaded with milk
because the tulips have waited all winter
in the cold dark earth
because each morning the wildflowers outside my window
raise their yellow faces to the sun
because we are all so helplessly in love
with the light
-Lisa Suhair Majaj
The Opposite of Nostalgia
You are running away from everyone
who loves you,
from your family,
from old lovers, from friends.
They run after you with accumulations
of a former life, copper earrings,
plates of noodles, banners
of many lost revolutions.
You love to say the trees are naked now
because it never happens
in your country. This is a mystery
from which you will never
recover. And yes, the trees are naked now,
everything that still breathes in them
lies silent and stark
and waiting. You love October most
of all, how there is no word
for so much splendor.
This, too, is a source
of consolation. Between you and memory
everything is water. Names of the dead,
or saints, or history.
There is a realm in which
---no, forget, it,
it’s still too early to make anyone understand.
A man drives a stake
through his own heart
and afterwards the opposite of nostalgia
begins to make sense: he stops raking the leaves
and the leaves take over
and again he has learned
to let go.
-Eric Gamalinda