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.

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,

swollen

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.

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. 

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.

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?" 

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.