Pause Hawk Cloud Enter
By Lauren CampThe soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.
Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
Search Results
Do You Speak Persian?
By Kaveh AkbarSome days we can see Venus in mid-afternoon. Then at night, stars
separated by billions of miles, light travelling years
to die in the back of an eye.
Ama-ar-gi*
By Dunya MikhailOur clay tablets are cracked
Scattered, like us, are the Sumerian letters
“Freedom” is inscribed this way:
Ama-ar-gi
origin stories (reprise)
By Safia Elhilloi was born in the winter in 1990 in a country not my own
i was born with my father’s eyes maybe i stole them he
doesn’t look like that anymore i was born
in seven countries i was born carved up by borders
The Iraqi Nights, Section 7
By Dunya MikhailIn Iraq,
after a thousand and one nights,
someone will talk to someone else.
Markets will open
for regular customers.
Tenor
By Fady JoudahFady Joudah reads "Tenor" at the 2010 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
My Father, on dialysis / Shoulders
By Naomi Shihab NyeNaomi Shahib Nye performs the poems "My Father, on dialysis" and "Shoulders" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
The Shape of the World
By Dunya MikhailDunya Mikhail reads "The Shape of the World" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
A Few Reasons to Oppose the War
By Lisa Suhair Majajbecause wind soughs in the branches of trees
like blood sighing through veins
because in each country there are songs
from part one of Diary of a Wave Outside the Sea
By Dunya MikhailThrough your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.