"You weren't born here"

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Issue 13: Free Form

Issue 12: The Necessary Ear

Issue 11: The Necessary Eye

Issue 10: Out on a Limb

Issue 9: The Missing Body

Issue 8: The Lily

Issue 7: Passages

Issue 6: No More Tears

Lorene Delany-Ullman


For Wail Sadiq

There is always war
in the country you thank me for calling Palestine.
You weren't born here
but recall the terraces of olives and almonds. Even frozen
they are a kind of curfew that delivers the land
to you one razed village after another, one
citrus grove or valley to remember
in your sleep that makes the rounds
of all the hours, and because this is
not my story and you could have never been
without this story, I look down
upon you, secretly, in my own sleep, and smell the whip
unleashed on your people, their graves cleansed,
the floating ruins gone to settlements.
Tell me how to recognize the chains,
the arguments between a young man and his terrain,
and I promise not to buy the natural crown of thorns
clustered and wrapped in tissue.