Edition XVII

October 2019


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An Act of Celebration - by Zeina Mhaidly (Photo by Lucas Sankey).jpgPhoto credit: Lucas Sankey

An Act of Celebration

By Zeina Mhaidly

I want to celebrate feelings that are often disregarded.
Feelings that are feared, stepped upon, dismissed,
forgotten and perceived to be dysfunctional for facing the world.

I want to celebrate feelings as an act of rebellion
over the belief that through escaping vulnerability one
remains alive.

And as an act of rebellion
over anyone who passes this fear of vulnerability to their friends,
partners, kids and anyone they come across.

I want to celebrate feelings as an act of rebellion
over existing systems and structures.
I want to celebrate feelings as an act of refusal to replicate the violence
we have been taught to exert upon ourselves and upon others
as a way of saving them and ourselves from the miseries of the world.

I want to celebrate feelings through going down to my deepest sorrows,
and rising with them again so we can together taste the exhilarating joy of being alive.

So my happiness rejoices my sorrows
and refuses to exist without knowing that they too exist,
that they too are celebrated.

So my happiness befriends my sorrows,
to the point where they become so intertwined that I will no longer be able to long for one
without taking care of the other.

I want to celebrate feelings by joining painters, writers, dancers and rebels.

I want to celebrate feelings over and over and over again
so this act becomes in itself an invitation to celebrate life.


I Can See the Sun Go to Sleep from my Bedroom Window - by Eddy Aziz (Photo by Ameen Fahmy).jpgPhoto credit: Ameen Fahmy

I Can See the Sun Go to Sleep from my Bedroom Window

By Eddy Aziz

I wonder
if anyone ever asks the sun
if she really wants to leave.

I wonder if
when she takes her daily dive into the sea,
someone looks at her from their bedroom window, like I do,
and asks her to stay just a little longer.

I bet
most of us have watched the sunset
one evening after the other
that it got to the point where
sunset is just another 6 p.m. I bet

most of us have never reached out
and tried to get a handful of sunlight
and tried to hold it close and be afraid of opening their hand
                                                                                                                                     just in case it escapes.

I bet no one has ever
tried breathing in the evening scent,
the one that smells like sea breeze.

I wonder
if I even dare
to ask the night to just wait a little longer by the door. “It’s fine,” I’d say,
“I’ve waited a lot,
you can do it,
just this one time,
for me.
Please.”

I wonder
if anyone ever tried closing their eyes as the sun sets
and imagining the world pass by
day in,
day out,
night in,
night out,
heartbreak in,
hangover out.

I wonder
if anyone just sipped their coffee waiting for the sun to set—
not their Nescafe,
their actual Lebanese black coffee,
the one they started drinking after their last heartbreak.

I wonder if the sun ever looked at the sky and said,
“Can we stay a little longer?
There is still so much to do.”

I wonder if my lovers ever looked at me
and thought the same thing.


متى؟ - by Ibrahim Kaboua (Photo by Tim Mossholder).jpgالمصور تيم موسشولدر

متى؟

بقلم إبراهيم قبوعة

عندما تشرق الشمس من غرب الأمم
و تسمو الوديان في أعالي القمم
و تلامس الهضاب رمال البحر

عندما تسكن الصحراء في الشمال
و تجف الأرواح  من الآمال
و تتناثر الثلوج ما بين الجمر

عندما ينتهي عن الرسم الفنان
و يمتنع عن صنع الالحان
و يقف من إسائة الحبر

عندما تصفا القلوب
و تنتهي الحروب
و يخرج المتخاصمين من دون نصر

عندما تذوب الأديان
و تدفن الهويات
و تغرب عن مرآنا دون ذكر

عندما تموت الحياة
و يقوم الأموات
و تنفتح أبواب القبر

متى ؟

عندما يقف الزمان
و يجمد المكان
و نكون كالطيف دون آثر

..عندها نكون معاً


Into the Night - by Hanna Abi Akl (Photo by Frank McKenna).jpgPhoto credit: Frank McKenna

Into the Night

By Hanna Abi Akl

Spending
Sleepless
Nights
Exhausting
Lifecycles
Lifetimes
Making up for
All the wasted breaths
All the restless throbs
As the wind bellows and bangs
Against the upper window

We ask ourselves
Where broken things
Have been and gone
Astray
How the things
We spent lifetimes
Losing
Suddenly
Come back.


Check out our previous edition from 2019:

Edition XIII
Edition XIV

Edition XV
Edition XVI

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