Poem

Carving Cradles

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This piece is part of the On Palestine Collection.

i sit 
in the dark 
late into the night 
in the lifeless living room 
having lost my way back to my bed
having lost my will to rest 
knees to my chest 
cradling between the halves of my body, my sketchbook
where I spent the past hours scrawling maps from scratch 
shaping borders with my bare hands
tracing the tracks of my bones across the topography 
stumbling over spellings of the tongue that has never ceased to claim me 
labeling the landscape with the names of my homes 
that I have barely seen
yet constantly reach for 
like the pull a mother has on her newborn 
how can I not – 
when my hovering limbs ache to be stitched back to their body?
how can I not – 
when the closest I can come to reunion is remembrance?
so I attempt to revive the memory of my blood 
as if my meager attempt to recall its life will ward off death – will strengthen its pulse 
and I sit unmoving – 
clutching to my core the cold paper as the clock carries me closer to sunrise 
as if maybe – 
if I stay still long enough, 
reality will be convinced to switch places with my dreams – a silly thought – I know 
as if maybe –
if I hold the likeness of my land tightly enough – 
i can stem her blood from spilling  
stop her tears from falling 
hold her shattered heart long enough to mend her wounds 
closed 

Sundus Aladra is a California-born everywhere-raised writer of Palestinian origin. Writing has been one of her most steadfast companions in the face of life's unpredictable ups and downs, and she thinks we all could use a little more of it in our world. Sundus holds a bachelor's degree in Political Science and International Relations and in her free time can be found trying to juggle her wide expanse of creative hobbies. She is excited to join MYM and can't wait to see where this path will lead.

4 Comments

  1. The author follows the footsteps of the great Arab poets. MashaʾAllah. So vivid and immersive. The audio is an additional treat.

  2. I loved this poem from the beginning till the end, a masterpiece. I can feel it in my heart.

  3. It was surreal and beautiful and beautiful and surreal. It was the most beautiful, heartbreaking piece I read this week. Thank you, Sundus!

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