“Once upon a time…” Wait. Too dramatic, too cliché. It is a comfortable way to start, as easy to note as a lullaby. But this is not a song…
Just be a good little Arab / Palestinian? What’s that? / Be a good little Arab…
“Go back to your country.” / I will go somewhere / But not because of you /
But because I’m tired of existing only …
There are no lovely wonderful thoughts as she was captured and brought again to Neverland. Second to the right, straight on till morning, towards her doom…
My beloved one once sighed and said, “I miss my brothers and my sisters.”/His companions asked, “Are we not your brothers O Messenger of Allah?”
Is it my fault though? / For wanting someone who will recognize my melancholic smile? / For wanting someone to share the heartache that is life with?
Today, Wendy Moira Angela Darling will walk a new kind of gallows. That’s quite melodramatic, she thinks. But it’s not so untrue. A broken woman in a broken mirror stares back at her…
I do not write about you / because you are everything good and whole and sacred, / I have a tendency to only write about wilted brokenness: /
the chipped cup, the forest blight, / the deer’s tangled antlers…