“Earth, be not proud”: Three poems by Raneen al-Azzazi
But earth, be not proud
The ending moment always
arrives.
Three poems, Mariam al-Khatib
In the corner, a woman selling mint looks at the world as if she has seen its end a thousand times and no longer cares if the scene is repeated.
“I Miss My Old Life,” Taqwa al-Wawi
I miss those days, before we carried the weight of names we no longer call. When “loss” was just a word in a story, not the story itself. But most of all, I miss the girl I was—the one who smiled without fear, whose laughter didn’t falter when windows rattled. She dreamed with arms wide open, wore hope like a favorite color, a flame that never flickered.