Tuesday, December 27, 2011

day seven.

december nineteenth.

winter in libya is an impersonal thing,
the proverbial croak of death before
the birth of spring, people freeze
retreat into rooms, under blankets
relationships left to hang from strings,
libyan winters are chilling things.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

day six.

december 18

today, the sky
tried to drown us all

forty-two years of famine
has left the country parched,
the ground is thirsty

mouth overflowing, 
the clouds pour her more
than she can take.
streets flooded, the city
is a woman pregnant,
two weeks over due,

but hopeful.

i go to sleep
and dream of swimming
through deep water. 

day five.

december 17

you love me less now,
and i understand.

i think,
i think i may
love you less 
now too.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

day four.

december sixteenth.

fashloom is a bride with a scratched face,
an abused daughter being married off
to a merciful man, she is glowing

draped in red and green,
lights drip from her neck 
and wrists like gold,
her mahr hanging from 
her earlobes, shining.

her cousins dance in the street,
clapping and stamping,
singing songs
to send her off
to her new life. 

Friday, December 16, 2011

day three.

december fifteenth.

the boy who gave me tissues
when my nose bled has a gun
and a future, a sister with a 
smile like tomorrow, 
and a face full of noor

she wears a necklace
made from a bullet
shot at her door.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

day two.

december fourteenth.

you are green.

your loss eats at you,
bites at your tongue and lips,
your cheeks are raw.

your bile is poisonous,
building in your chest,
choking you,
the hate you want to spit
leaks from your lips

you are green.

my dad says it's easy 
to tell the thowrieen 
from the tahalib.

he says, 
"just look at them.
are they happy?" 

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

day one.

december thirteenth. 

from the sky,
tripoli at night looks like fairy dust,
like magic, flung out across the landscape
by the majestic, the most merciful
each light a kindled hope,
every lamp a martyr

i press my face against the glass,
fall in love a hundred times
during the descent

a soldier with a gun stands guard
at the plane door, thanks god
we have arrived safely

i thank god he's alive,
that i'm alive,
that we're free.