hidden garden behind a row of Haifa city blocks

this morning
discovering a garden
no - a haven
after ten years in this block
hidden behind a locked gate.

last week,
I received my own key.
a tree, yellow fruit. Lemons?
need to get closer - feel its yellowness.

behind a row of low Haifa city blocks -
a virgin garden
waiting -
to be meditated in

waiting -
to be written.

(c) khulud khamis, May 2015

untitled - 2015

Three times
She has seen Death in her mother’s eyes.
The first – unexpected.
The other two times – invited.
Three times
She has heard Agony in her father’s voice.
The first time – raw fear.
The other two times – well, it doesn’t get any easier.
And she cannot afford to collapse.
Must be strong – ambulance bill, arrange shifts at hospital bed, talk to doctors, nurses, psychiatrist, social worker. Be nice, smile. Check on father, check on daughter, make sure they’re alright. Go home, sleep, charge phone, back to hospital. Be nice, smile. Must not collapse. Be strong. Be nice, smile.
(c) khulud, 2015

the only way I know

I tried to – 
love you 
gradually.
but I failed.

I tried to – 
love only
parts of you.
and I failed.

So I settled for
loving you
the only way I know

wholly
completely
utterly

- khulud خلود

clouds visit the mountains

losing you
in the rain
a tree drops
one leaf
then another

clouds visit the mountains
on road B311

against the flow of the river
through
in between
the mountains

finding you
losing myself
finding something new

khulud, August 2014, Austria

war is not my language - الحرب ليست لُغتي

photo from the album "war is not my language". All photos can be circulated, shared, and used, under condition credit is given. If possible, provide a link to this poem, and notify me (via email, facebook, comment here).

الحرب ليست لُغتي

war is not my language

no more of yours F-16s
no more of your tanks!
(and your other American made deadly toys)
no more of your Qassams[1]

no more!

Khalas!
we are sleepless
our bodies – collapsing, shaking, bloodied, amputated, dead.

الحرب ليست لُغتي

war is not my language

rule and divide
rule and divide
rule and divide
NO MORE!

we refuse.
we scream in desperation
let us live
stop the murder.

LIFT the siege off Gaza
LET the fishermen fish
and let the boys PLAY football.

الحرب ليست لُغتي

war is not my language

LIFT the siege off Gaza

LET the women live with dignity

and let the girls SWIM in the sea

divide and rule
divide and rule
NO MORE!

we refuse!
we stand up and loudly, clearly say
together, Jews and Palestinians –
we refuse your wars
we refuse to be enemies

الحرب ليست لُغتي

war is not my language


divide and rule
NO MORE!

(c) khulud khamis, خلود خميس
Haifa, 19 July 2014
حيفا, تموز 2014

---

[1] searching for the correct spelling, I find out that Izz ad-Din Al-Qassam lived part of his life in Haifa, my home, playing a major part in laying the foundation for the Black Hand (al-kaff al-aswad) الكف الأسود

the incompetence of words

the first time you
whispered the – 
word
it took my breath away
in the dark
I remained silent.

this word
for me
is too small to –
contain all that is
in my soul my mind my body

I remain silent
awed
at the incompetence of
words.

- khulud خلود

hang the sun upside down

I want to hang the sun upside down 
at the bottom of the ocean
and let it bleed upwards
in spirals
- khulud

this hand with three fingers

this dark hand with only
three fingers
caressing her naked 
body
with soft sadness
in a downtown hotel
room.
***
this smile of his
when he runs his hand
with the two fingers lost
along her body
in a downtown hotel
room.
***
the way he holds her
softly,
his three fingers intertwined
with her
five.
in a downtown hotel
room
with a view of the Haifa bay.

- khulud خلود

herstory - mystory - ourstory

changing history to –

herstory

mystory

ourstory

Changing words

power * oppression * conquering * wars * control

replace with –

***

make new spaces

in herstory books

for ourstories

***

retrieve ourstories from the past

document ourstories of the present

create ourstories for the future.   

- khulud خلود

clean a poem

17 November 2013 – clean a poem

sweep the stairs
begin from the third floor,
descend all the way to the 
ground floor.
sweep.
sound.
silence.
Poem.
monotonous movement of the arms.
moving backward
downward.
descend.

now the water.
a whole bucketful of –
clear water.
now climb again to –
the third floor.
and begin all over –
again.
mop
descend
backward
downward.
sound
silence
Poem.

make up a poem
on the way –
spiralling
downward.
backward.

khulud - خلود

Haifa winter poems

in the process of writing Haifa winter poetry

not "exotic" enough

(c) photo by khulud 

It’s not right.
my sexuality is not – 
an exotic exhibit 
for you
to
feed your 
stereotypes. 

I refuse to – 
make 
orientalist
art
only for your –
voyeuristic
desires.

This is me
With all complexities
And this is the –
Margins.

and if the margins are just not
enough
or are too much for you,

then you need to
drop the
categorization.

(c) khulud khamis, haifa 

on the art of escaping

I panic
I freeze
Then -
all I want is
out.
A trapped animal
logic -
stops.

carrying the -
scars
like a turtle carries her
home.
can't escape.
no matter -
how
fast
I
run.

(c) khulud khamis, haifa 2013

untitled october [1]

(c) photo by khulud

vesti – bular

making

rea – lity

                                move to the side

just a bit

neuro – nitis

making

words

                                move differently in my brain

Making up

New structure –

Unthought-of form

                                A bit off to the side of – logic

fresh rhythm

learn to –

on diagnosis

There is –

suddenly

not enough

time.

***

Life has –

with one diagnosis

been surprised.

***

In a mess

a welter

of words

of scenes

of beginnings –

of stories.

***

time is short

time is fast

and I still have –

so many stories

to write.

(c) khulud khamis, October 2013 [Haifa]

Live through the storm

(c) photo by khulud khamis. Sunrise in Uganda, 2007.

Walk into the storm

do not be afraid

get wet -

all the way to

the bones.

feel the thunder beating against

your very essence.

***

For without a storm,

there can be no growth

no expansion

from within.

***

And after the storm –

the fog unblurs

and all becomes –

Clear

and

Tranquility reigns.

اسمهان Asmahan

اسمهان

when I'm with you in the bayader                              parts of me fall off

your body is so tender that I'm afraid                          to touch you – lest

you diminish in                                                           beauty and – Asmahan

when you take the veil off your hair                            for me – I am. I become.

and I lust to cover my                                                 body with

your hair                                                                     – to feel its silky smoothness

I crave to worship –                                                     you.

kneel down and –                                                       pray your love into me.

to lose my self and find my self –                                 inside you.

terrified you will – one day –                                       dissolve between my arms

intoxicated by the letters of –                                       your name in my blood.

and one day I will                                                        turn to the ashes of your name.

(c) khulud khamis, forthcoming in Spinifex press.

her voice

He asked her what is the color of – 
her voice.

and the story of what season does it
tell.

What does it smell like.
What does it taste like.

***

And she replied
It's the color of fire
telling the story of winter
smells like rain
tastes like the brown earth

***

(1)
أسمك إمرأة
صوتك صوت المطر
رائحتك النسيم
مشيتك الزمن
سائلة بدمي
دائماً وأبداً


(2)
طيري قريباً للشمس
فإن ﻻ تحترقي
لم تعيشي!
إحترقي
عيشي

(c) khulud khamis, Haifa 2013

Learning to Fly

Where is this – 
Hatred coming from
Like fire
Unleashed.

Hatred?
Or – 
Envy!

Is it because –
She was made of you.
But dared to reach up
For the branches
And then learned to –
Fly?

While you kept your wings
Tucked underneath
The whole life through.

Only because
You feared
Falling down

Or –
Was your fear greater
That of succeeding to –
fly?

(c) khulud khamis, 2013

fragmented Haifa poetry no. 4 - June 2013

fragmented - 1 

My Haifa 
* stairs * scorching sun * racism * sound of waves at night * destruction * colors * mountain * languages * immigrants * topography * marginalization * gardens * hatred * rain * co-existence / non-existence * sound of planes * train * LGBTQI * friends * trees * prostitution * fires in the Carmel * discrimination * poetry * religion * my favorite trumpet player at the corner * so many churches * poverty * music * Carmelit * collision * 

***

fragmented - 2
the words are bubbling under my skin.
break through, burst out - 
onto the page.

***

fragmented - 3

just drag me from the outside in.
beyond the -
within.

*** 

fragmented - 4

Copy this – 
Body.
With all its wrinkles and comforts
All imperfections 
But also
The perfections.

(c) khulud khamis, 2013