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Joy is a sunflower in bloom,
a burst of yellow laughter in the throat of dawn—
it dances barefoot through fields
where even the scarecrows smile.

Sadness seeps in shades of blue,
an ocean swallowing lullabies whole,
waves cradling broken boats
and the moon’s reflection—shivering.

Anger is a match lit red,
flickering like a war drum’s pulse,
a wildfire in the chest,
burning bridges before they’re crossed.

Fear creeps in gray,
a mist dragging its feet through alleyways,
whispers behind curtains,
the silence before a scream.

Love is crimson spun with rose,
a heartbeat wrapped in silk,
sometimes soft, sometimes savage—
a fire that kisses and consumes.

Peace wears the hush of lavender light,
a hammock beneath wind-whispered trees,
a breath drawn slowly,
unfolding like petals in spring.

Hope is the color of sky brushed gold,
a sunrise you almost missed,
a window cracked open
in a room you thought was locked.

Loneliness is the aching indigo,
stars you can see but never touch,
a winter coat with no one inside,
quiet as a room full of eyes.

Jealousy glints a poison green,
a vine curling where it’s not wanted,
something sour behind the smile,
a mirror cracked just slightly.

Gratitude glows in soft orange,
a hearth with arms,
warmth that hums
even when the fire’s low.

Shame is a dusty blush of muted brown,
an old coat you never meant to wear,
muddy footprints you try to clean
before anyone sees.

Confidence roars in emerald and royal violet,
a cloak stitched with thunder,
feet firm on the earth
as the sky bends to meet your eyes.
I have weathered storms that shook
my heart against my rib cage

Battled lightning bolts
that gave my brain electric shocks

and yet -

I cannot withstand this goodbye
that tastes like battery acid in my throat
everytime i try and say your name

I cannot find the strength to let you go,
even though you are

- gone

your face echoes, wild as the wind in my memories

all I have is love
this love that was not enough to save you
so how can this love save me

from crumbling with grief
 Apr 13 Bekah Halle
Eme
I went to church today after years of not going. I talked to the pastor and poured my sorrows to him. Something hard to do is asking for help and suffering in silence. We aren't meant to suffer in silence. I've learned a lot about accountability finding others we can trust to help us because we can't do things alone. Thank you friends for holding your men accountable and trying to get them to meet men who can hold each other accountable emotionally and physically. I know who I am but it was also because I've suffered and sought myself. I love you ladies
Oh, duplicitous lover of mine—
who are you, lying beside me?

The father, whose pride rings from your mouth
like the bells of liberty?

The husband, whose arms once lifted my soul?


Or the traitor who razed his own kingdom—
a castle turned to rubble at your feet?

So cunning, you are-
the parasite at the bottom of the glass,
a shadow shifting in the room,
with poison on your tongue.

Do you love me today?
Or them?

How long will your eyes cling like cobwebs
to strangers who were never yours to seek?

How long before you feel
how cold our bed has grown?

My touch?

How long until you notice
I am not asleep—
just lying beside a memory.  

I’ve heard your denials,
your guilt already etched in stone.

Your hands hold me like a promise.
Yet,  your eyes betray me like a curse.

And still—
I feel the echoes of our late-night dances
stream down my face as I cry today.
Different tears.  

Same man.

I am the witness to your storm,
and still I reach for your warmth—
like a ghost returning
to the scene of its death.

I do not know the man who holds me.
But I remember the man I love.

So I lie still in this haunted bed,
wondering if I am mourning
you—
or myself.
Along the river bank
on a sweltering day
there she was, shining in radiant beauty
lariviere quenched her thirst
her timid smile, gentle touch
personified kindness in tranquility
the desire of many men over time
for she was not one woman
she was a piece of history
re-incarnated many times over
you may have known her as Hind Al-Husseini
who cared for the children of the Nakba
passionate for the plight of all women
her history and roots she proudly expressed
with a museum of folklore, all impressed
Then there was Hind Shoufani
who learnt love from burnt villages
we are all tired, always though in the hearts
love falasteen

re-incarnated yet again
as Hind Rajab
an innocent child
like Jesus feared by evil
and those with power
shot this child over 300 times
sixty bullets for every year of her life
a gentle life stolen by the star of David
of course there was Rostom of the Nile
whose sensual moves so captured the eye
she remained a mystery to most
the humble and shy often do
passant hind at the rivers edge
red hair blowing in the breeze
sadness of the world, a suffocating heat
on the other side of the river
was it my imagination?
or did I see a small smile?
HIND RAJAB
She was born in 2018, she was almost 6 years old when she was staying with her uncle, an evacuation order forced them to leave west Gaza early in January 2024, and it was hard to do that with Zionists Troops all round, there were 6 of them in the car when they were attacked by a Zionist tank, four were killed when her cousin called the Red Crescent begging for help and during the call the tank fired at them and the call was ended, Red Crescent tried to call them again but this time Hind answered cuz her 15 years old cousin was dead, she begged for someone to rescue her, she begged the Red Crescent operator to stay with her on the phone and never hangs up, they stayed like this for hours as they were trying to get a permission from the Zionists Army to send an ambulance to save Hind, the Palestine authority gave them the green light and when the ambulance finally arrived and while they were in touch with the head office and Hind, the tank fired at them and all calls were Lost, after 2 weeks the damaged car and ambulance were found, all were dead .. The Zionists denied having any troops around that area, as they always lie, but the evidence is clear, the car was hit by more than 300 bullets, and the satellites imagery by an independent investigator group from the UK proved that the tank was so close to the car, as Hind said, and it was clear they knew what they were doing but for more than a year, the US ex department kept backing the Zionists with their fake investigation and of course the current one will never even care about it, but we should be rest assured cuz the ones who committed this war crime are the ones investigating it, I think we owe an apology for all serial killers which never had the chance to investigate their own crimes, but what we've been witnessing in the last few months is enough to tell us the true face of the western world and the lies we believed since the 1940s, there's nothing worse than a dictatorship in disguise..


Hind Shoufani is a Palestinian film maker, poet and writer and has lived and worked in many big cities in the Middle East as a writer, producer, film director and editor. She is a founder of the Poeticians poets‘ collective in Beirut and Dubai, in which poets, men and women, from all different backgrounds and origins meet regularly to present their work to each other.

Hind al-Husseini (Arabic: April 1916 – 13 September 1994) was a Palestinian woman notable for rescuing 55 orphaned survivors of the Deir Yassin massacre, after they were dropped off in Jerusalem and left to fend for themselves. She later converted her grandfather Salim al-Husayni's mansion into an orphanage, Dar al-Tifl al-Arabi [it], to house them, which became a school providing education to orphans and other children from Palestinian towns and villages.

Hind Hussain Mohammed, more commonly known by her stage name Hind Rostom, was an Egyptian actress and is considered one of the icons in the Egyptian cinema, as she was mainly known for her sensual roles. Her physical appearance earned her the name Marilyn Monroe of the east
From the depth of my cage
I saw you pretending to be
Not my keeper
Releasing me, only to chase me
Into my own nightmare
Of charred souls
Standing helpless
As I watched the ash blow away
A real nightmare I had that a while ago that I cannot forget
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