ليس سرابا-Not a Mirage

و أخذ يسير على مهل بين أضواء دمشق و شجرها و بشرها ..فكر كل شي ها هنا جميل، لكن ثمة شيء ما يشوب هذا الجمال لعله شيء من الحسن، لعله شيء من البحث عن الذات عن ذات هذه المدينه العتيقة نعم انها تدرك روحها و هويتها و تتغنى بأصالة يحق لها أن تتغنى بها ..لكن … Continue reading ليس سرابا-Not a Mirage

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هُناك

I wrote this poem while landing at San Francisco international Airport. The view is breathtaking and fascinating. It shows the beauty of God's creation.

انظر بعيداً، اعدل القامة واستقم هناك موجة بحر صارمة هناك ريحٌ عاتية هناك مطبّاتٌ دامية اعدل القامة واستقم،، هناك انهارٌ راكده هناك قلوبٌ لكَ هائمة و عصافير بالحبّ مغردة اعدل القامة واستقيم، ان اخذتك موجةٌ اتقن فنّ السباحة ان عصفت بك الرّيح، تُب لله ثانية ان سقطتَ، فلملمْ بقاياكَ لا مرةً ثانية بل عاشرة لانه … Continue reading هُناك

Beautiful Scars

Once a place where smiles Bloomed like butterflies on marigolds, A little girl with a deep scar runs halfway across her chest, and halfway across her face, from brow to lip. Holding a small Hello Kitty suitcase full of Photos and a package of food She was left with, but has all been taken by … Continue reading Beautiful Scars

The life of death.

Walked on argillaceous gravels, dirt and fissured ground. "Be careful! Watch out! There's a big hole there, we'll have to jump to get to Um Hussam's tent" my partner said. A tent? Well, maybe we can call it bunch of stapled plastic bags to make the roof. A bunch of blankets on the "ground" to … Continue reading The life of death.

Prisoners-السُّجناء

They die silently under the ground, without a single word being heard They die slowly feeling every single pain and experiencing all kind of torture They eat dust and drink their own blood filled in a big glass They stand, they don’t sit. They stay awake , they don’t sleep. Today, December 4th, Hussam Alnajjar … Continue reading Prisoners-السُّجناء

Stuck in Memories

There are numbers in my head, that I'll never forget. One day, Damascus was cold and my eyes witnessed a river of bloodshed in Abbaseyyin square, Dimashq. A random bomb hit the capital, accidentally, because it was supposed to explode in the rural areas where poor people live. Yeah, sorry! We don't kill rich people … Continue reading Stuck in Memories

A Princess With Dreams

Peace be upon everyone, believers, dreamers. To begin: Loosing my self and that's what I fear. That one day, my people won't be here. A flash back two years ago. My inner conversation: Looking at the mirror, With some confidence and terror, Chasing your dreams, With so many tears. Take action, serve the world with … Continue reading A Princess With Dreams