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Maria Etre Feb 13
Never forget
You'll always be my
Maria Etre Jan 14
It's like I summon the universe now
we talk at night
meet for coffee
and sometimes
he surprises me
when I think he doesn't listen
Maria Etre Jan 9

Re-ignite the Revolution in my belly
my butterflies are hungry
starving for you

Light Jan 7
If I don’t call can I still call you mine.
If I forget to write know I still love
Your mountains, oceans, home of the divine
where Saints shine down upon us from above.  
I still dream of Your calm and starry nights.
Your heat filled streets and gardens all in bloom.
The freshest fruit and people made of light
the Lady of the World, ya Beirut.
I have not seen Your beauty in a while,
memories fade into Your brilliant sunset
over summer streets I played in as a child,
but I’ll always know, ana min Libnen.
And if your Cedars fall to violent flames,
You’ll always be my real home of the brave.
Maria Etre Dec 2019

“Good Morning gorgeous”
echoes down the hall
her voice altered
into a decibel
that she created
a clear tone only meant
to the one who knows

I have looked at her for 27 years
and counting, I witnessed growth
naturally aligned with her stars
never gone astray
with a mind for a compass
a heart to balance and a body to embrace
those who need

Her strength bewitched me
from mishaps to miracles
her legs never failed her
from tree climbing to moving houses
from cartwheels to driving in foggy weather
Her courage moved me
from enduring unfairness
to teaching about fairness
her rationale calmed me
and it was when she carried her baby
that I felt mother nature adopt her into motherhood
blessing her with power unknown to man
with endurance with love, with intensified
fountains of love, waterfalling everyday
every night into her baby’s heart
filling her with a glow only she knows how to grow

I saw her in a different light
with her own world between her arms
marveling at the strength that body has
to carry and nourish

She has become a mother
even though from time to time
I still steal a glance at the sister I knew
but I, now, am the proud sister of a mother.
Dedicated to my sister, Jessica
Maria Etre Nov 2019
Can my muses
be revolting with my sisters
while my pencil carves
its sorrows
on papers
wet with tears?
Mohammed Arafat Aug 2019
From a tent to another, I move.
It’s raining,
and sometimes, snowing.
It doesn’t matter how cold it is,
because I am cold.
I have only one blanket,
when I sleep,
one sweaters,
when I move from a tent to another,
under rain,
and sometimes snow.

Wait! I am day-dreaming.
I don’t live in a tent anymore.
I live in a makeshift home.
I have more blankets.
I have more sweaters.
My life is better,
but I still feel cold.

I look out from the dusty window,
that looks like those in jails,
in my room I share with my brother.
It’s sunny outside!
It’s hot!
but why am I cold?

I am still looking outside from the same window.
More makeshift houses appear,
all around,
“Our refugees’ rights?”
written in Arabic, I read on the walls around.
By then, I realized I am still called a refuge.

I saw people marching,
holding banners,
asking for human rights,
holding Palestinian flags,
and wearing the Kofeya.
I realized I am still a refuge.
I see people,
forced to leave their homeland,
to another,
where they live with no rights,
to have jobs,
to build houses.

I see kids,
looking at the protesters,
not knowing what they are looking at,
but I know they realize that,
they are still refugees,
in a neighbouring country,
oppressed and cold.

Mohammed Arafat
When streets in Palestinian refugees camps around Palestine are filled with loud voices in recent days, it's not celebration but protests, bearing the message "Enough, we want dignity".
Maria Etre Jun 2019
to raise
I am
Lynn Al-Abiad May 2017
خدني ع مقهى يونس

لين اا -
إدمان محتمل

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