Shortly after the terror commenced on the 7th of October, I reached out to a friend of mine in Barcelona about how helpless I feel. She felt helpless, too. Attending protests and screaming outloud hasn’t stopped the terrorist state in its genocidal undertaking to kill children and innocent Palest!nians. Out of helplessness and hopelessness, the… Continue reading The Watermelon Writing Workshop in Barcelona
Tag: writing
January 2025
Is it 2025 already? I no longer perceive time. The Palestinian flag that the student union hung last year has lost color, fading away, and yet the genocide machine still busy: eating us alive; starving us from the inside; disbowling our sanity. I think of Gaza everyday. Some days I am hopeful and other days… Continue reading January 2025
May 2024
May is mighty. May is sad. May is relentless. It’s a month of Nakabat (catastrophes); of Massacres; of Mayhem. May is for workers and workers for May. Yesterday, the Columbia Gaza Encampment was dissolved by the NYPD forces, arresting tens of students and throwing away their tents. They think that robbing us of the material… Continue reading May 2024
November 2023
Pablo Neruda lived in Madrid during the Spanish Civil War, and upon being asked why aren’t you writing poetry about lilacs and philosophy? he responded: come look at the blood in the streets Venid a ver la sangre por las calles. How can I write a POETIC TIMES post when a genocide is taking place… Continue reading November 2023
The Creative Writing Space in Ramallah رام الله
The driver of the yellow mini van(service as we call it, which refers to yellow mini vans that are used as means of public transpotation in the west bank. There’s no schedule: once the service is full, it takes off) pointed towards a hole in the apartheid wall and told us that we should take… Continue reading The Creative Writing Space in Ramallah رام الله
When the world asks me to write.
I can’t write I can’t write. I’m in crisis and I’m feeling tight I can’t write. How can I be when I can’t write? I look left and right, I tell my mother and cousins Hey I can’t write, I can’t write. They look amazed- so what? We too can’t write, And it’s alright. But… Continue reading When the world asks me to write.
AICHA BINT YUSIF 