“The Son of Yesterday”: Three poems by Mohammed Moussa
I walk alone without my
mother, and I am my mother’s son.
“Hunger’s Silence, Language’s Struggle,” Mohammed Moussa
Each day, we rise and pretend there’s something new to say, as if our words could carve a path through the despair, as if they could feed the starving or cradle the abandoned. But to whom are we speaking? For what purpose?
“No Sugar in the City”: Three poems by Hind Jouda
Oh world, it is an evening of hunger
not necessarily in my stomach
and not a hunger for the bread that you eliminate for a diet!
Not a hunger for the miserable aid you sent in containers for my children,
I stood at the crossroad of rifles, and it did not arrive!
“Rations,” Hind Jouda
Five days under siege with no food or water.
Emerging, the family is shot dead.
My tongue feels dry.