A rose shoulders up -- Leaving childhood behind -- What is home? -- My grandfather was a terrorist -- On a starless night -- Palestinian painter -- My grandfather and home -- Palestinian streets -- In the war: you and houses -- Searching for a new exit -- Flying poem -- Sobbing without sound -- Discoveries -- Hard exercise -- Olympic hopscotch leap -- Death before birth (DBB) -- Rubble salary -- Cold sweat -- Tears -- Deserted boat, dreaming -- The wall and the clock -- My city after what happened some time ago -- Interlude -- We love what we have -- A litany for "one land" -- We deserve a better death -- Everyday meals during wars -- US and THEM -- silence of water -- On Gaza seashore -- Shrapnel looking for laughter -- A voice from beneath -- Seven fingers -- Gone with the gunpowder -- Palestinian sonnet -- Ibrahim Abu Lughod and brother in Yaffa -- Desert and exile -- To Mahmoud Darwish -- To Ghassan Kanafani -- Edward Said, Noam Chomsky, and Theodor Adorno in Gaza -- Displaced -- To Ibrahim Kilani -- The wounds -- To my visa interviewer -- Notebooks -- A boy and his telescope -- Things you may find hidden in my ear -- Mosab -- Memorize your dream -- Forever homeless -- A rose shoulders up -- Interview ith the author.
Summary:
"These poems emerge directly from the experience of growing up and living in constant lockdown, and often under direct attack. Like Gaza itself, they are filled with bombs, rubble and the ever-present menace of surveillance drones policing a people unwelcome in their own land. They are also suffused with the smell of tea, roses in bloom, and the view of a sunset over the sea. Children are born, families continue traditions, students attend university, and libraries rise from the ruins as Palestinians go on about their lives, creating beauty and finding new ways to survive." -- Back cover. "In this poetry debut, the first collection from any Gazan poet to be published in English, Mosab Abu Toha writes directly from the experience of growing up and living one's entire life in Gaza, the world's largest open-air prison camp. These poems emerge from Mosab's life under siege, first as a child, and then as a young father. A survivor of four brutal military attacks, he bears witness to a grinding cycle of destruction and assault, and yet, his poetry is infused with a profoundly universal humanity. In direct, vivid language, Abu Toha writes about being unwelcome in your own land, and even outside of it. He writes about being wounded by shrapnel at the age of 16, and then, a few years later, watching his home and his university get hit by Israeli warplanes in an attack that killed two of his close friends. Books are buried in rubble and electricity is often limited to 2 hours a day, and yet, families continue traditions, students attend university, and libraries rise from the ruins. These poems are filled with bombs and the ever-present menace of surveillance drones, as well as the smell of tea and roses in bloom, and the view of the sea at sunset. They present an almost surrealist/absurd viewpoint, based in a sense of rational and profound perplexity as to why these conditions continue, and how the people of Gaza go about their lives, even creating beauty as they find new ways to survive. Abu Toha writes, "It's not only about narrating things. It's about keeping things alive in us and for the generations to come. It's about how life crumbles, but also how it tries to stand." If we don't begin understanding what has happened there--and is still happening--Gaza might be our future as well. We all need to grasp what it means to still be human in such a situation"-- Provided by publisher.
This resource is supported by the Institute of Museum and Library Services under the provisions of the Library Services and Technology Act as administered by State Library of Iowa.