Our family
is Legend with
stories. We are
a myth made of
names.
those close
calls recounted
as we sat around
teta, the ones which
she & our parents,
ensure are etched
in the seams of our
skin, the memory
a web woven across
the threads of generations--
what they did,
how we made it
off of every last
chance taken,
every hope saved,
so that we don't
forget, so that
they are immortalized,
& as life is now,
it came with a price.
now these tales live tall
in my head, and i wonder
what all else we'll add, as
we craft this elaborate map.
and then i remember.
they, we, left everything
for a new life here.
YOU ARE READING
Yalla Habibi: poems in 3arabeezi
PoetryArabic for "Hurry Up, Love," Yalla Habibi is all about a personal exploration of Arab American identity. This condensed, illustrated chapbook of poems is written in 3arabeezi, or Arabish-- mostly English with some Arabic words (and a fun glossary is...
