
Selected Poem Excerpts
The More I Love Me, Me, The Palestinian
The more they hate me, their convenient ugly Arab,
the more I love me,
me, illustrious and beautiful
Palestinian Arab
The more fictitiously they portray and write me antihero
and boogie man/woman me the more I know me, follow me, empower me …
SF City Hall Arab American Heritage Month
SF Beat Museum Revolutionary Poets Brigade Reading
Embroidered Memory
Arabic tapestry embroidered into my soul is my memory of home
Red on black pyramids octagons, lines and vines each village distinct
bedouin purple and fuchsia red poppies and tulips
my mother, sixteen--vibrant peacocks on linen
circle around down, up up, down
A fine needle in and out.
An artist's tool piercing a fabric, weaving culture
Women of this art fill my heart with hues of
red and orange fruit orchards filling the air with aroma of a culture of olive,
almond and fig groves kept safe and warm…
Published in Poetry of Arab Women- A Contemporary Anthology by Nathalie Handal
Wat er I Do Without Water
Water is the element that is all power
For the slicing of water is unavailable
Like a slice of pie
Water, the element that is danced for
Sung for
Prayed for
Rejoiced for
Water is the holy coveted
Water is what we are made of
Water is what we are scared of
Water is what holds secrets
Water is what holds babies
Water keeps large-feared creatures at bay
Water is darkness
Water is light
Water is life
Water is death
Water is motion
Water is still…
Marigold Project Reading for Day of the Dead event at the Exploratorium After Dark 2024
Betryal
While the extreme form of capitalism consumes precious seconds,
minute by minute, hour by hour,
ingesting days and nights until one loses count,
loses oneself.
The Homo erectus, us, who roam a wretched earth;
us, larger-than-life-personality dinosaurs
in search of water, oil, gas and blood-
flirt with cannibalism and laughing sinisterly at genocide.
Cruel creatures, us humans, once opulent and mighty
in simple ways, in wholesome ways-
the lucky ones, gifted at birth with a heart, a brain,
and perfectly designed limbs.
We learned nippily to squander nature’s generous marvels-
trading in our own hearts and souls at the neighborhood pawn shop,
for money, objects, status, power and control.
It is not the mighty and exquisite earth that is wretched,
Indeed, it is the opposite,
for the Earth Mother is patient with evil.
It is the spineless human, the sadistic one that is vile, wretched.
I leave many out of my tirade. I love you!
Peacemakers and lovers of justice,
be assured your heart and soul is not in jeopardy.
Your work in this realm is not complete…
Published in For All - Revolutionary Poets Brigade 2024
Picking a Palestinian Red Poppy and Painting it is a Crime
I awake from my glee to bad news
that the wings I covet from my visiting bird
are too frail for my freedom and flight.
She pleads with me to have patience
in no justice hell prison cell until a stronger
set of wings comes along to attach
to my outstretched a r m s.
I gawk UP and bid dove
f a r e w e l l.
Luminous eyes of a free bird are hope as clear
and tangible as this wet drop
that enlightened the mourning
of the f r e e white dove bird
that will return stronger to lend her
w i n g s
for my salvation and delivery.
Published in Maintenant 18 July 2024
(Nominated for the Pushcart Prize) - Three Rooms Press
An Open Letter To My People
(For Gaza, Palestine martyrs of 2018 massacre)
My people, I call upon you
My people, I plead with you
My people, my heart and soul bleeds with you
The hemorrhage of your being is squeezed
And I shut the wound when I close my eyes tight
I close my eyes shut so tight, tears well up
As though I have created a dam
I cannot close my eyes without seeing you fall
Fall hard on the dry rubble beneath your bare feet
Where are your sandals my people?
Stay steadfast and don’t trip on a stone
Stay steadfast and hurl your stone
The stone that has the weight of a boulder
The boulder that has the weight of water
Water I can’t give you
water within your easy reach
At the bloody shore of your open-air prison
Water I can’t split in two with my wooden staff
Like the grandiose legend
When Moses sliced a sea in two
For his tribe to flee from bondage before
A receding tempest plunged inward
To swallow whole a vortex of
Marauding Pharaoh’s cavalry on chariots…
Published in Overthrowing Capitalism - Revolutionary Poets Brigade Vol. 5 2024
Videos
Home, Away from Home - Photo Exhibit Event
San Francisco Public Library Reading
Jam for Justice: An evening of world music, poetry and dance
(please fast forward to 1:07:19 for my introduction and reading)
Reading at the Ruby, San Francisco 2025
Three Rooms Press - Maintenant 2025
Flor Y Canto Lit Festival - Medicine for Nightmares Bookstore/Gallery sf