childhood memories lay scattered
shattered in the kitchen sink
chamin v'salat v'hummus v'pita
chatters and hugs and laughter and cigaretts
the family i once knew stolen away by the ugly world
the world of hate and of greed and of blame and of shame.
how i wish i could forget - become small again - only see the good.
but the ugly truth has been revealed and we have reached the point of no return.
we sit at coffee houses and drink our cappuccinos and pretend everything is the same.
but this is the moment - the final test. which family will survive - the blood or the community?
when we grow up knowing and loving and sharing with a family that is not your own
your whole world is in a spin
blood is essential, but it is bitter and salty and stinks of hate.
so we try to make sense of this fucked up world
piece by piece
like a never-ending four dimensional puzzle
we carry on.
it is all we know.
Monday, June 25, 2012
on shalom
waking up to a soft breeze, warm weather, bright sun.
drinking turkish coffee with my grandfather, hearing his stories - his ever so silly and ever so serious stories.
eating the best Iraqi food ever, served with love from my grandmother.
to new Nikon macro lenses and fresh pita.
to wearing sundresses every day, to uncontrollably massive hair.
to all the little things.
the little things.
that make the 24 hour delay, the stress of almost being bumped to another flight, the uncomfortable seat between two large smelly men, the anxiety, the turbulance, the lack of vegetarian options all worth it.
it's my family, it's my home. it is fucked up and messy and imperfect, but it is mine. it is true. it is in my blood. and no one can take that away from me. and i can not take that away from myself. it is with me always.
to peace in the land of perpetual war.
drinking turkish coffee with my grandfather, hearing his stories - his ever so silly and ever so serious stories.
eating the best Iraqi food ever, served with love from my grandmother.
to new Nikon macro lenses and fresh pita.
to wearing sundresses every day, to uncontrollably massive hair.
to all the little things.
the little things.
that make the 24 hour delay, the stress of almost being bumped to another flight, the uncomfortable seat between two large smelly men, the anxiety, the turbulance, the lack of vegetarian options all worth it.
it's my family, it's my home. it is fucked up and messy and imperfect, but it is mine. it is true. it is in my blood. and no one can take that away from me. and i can not take that away from myself. it is with me always.
to peace in the land of perpetual war.
Friday, June 22, 2012
on beckett
its the crimson flash -
the first pigment in a greyscale world
lungs scream for Oxygen
the smell of snow in autumn
wind between manicured toes
the fall.
the catch.
the sinking
BLINK
baby's precious golden lock
a pinprick
the silent steady rush of Heat.
time
hiccups back
another
shot
once
again
reexamine
no less
something
imperfect
a machine
in
control
no
control
as if...
sitting.
waiting.
when all
it wants is...
like
before.
a moment
eternity
the
antimatter of why
NOT I
Saturday, June 16, 2012
on the good days
they are days full of sunshine and iced coffee. days of mother-daughter pedicures and father-daughter geekdom. days of not caring if the car next to you hears you singing your favorite song; days of trying on every pair of sunglasses just for fun. days filled with warm raspberry pancakes and fresh honeydew and new shoes and old friends. they are days. they come and they go. they may be few and far between at the moment, but they do come. they do exist. they are possible. and that gives me hope.
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