ORIGINS AND SHATTERED CONCRETE
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some days you miss
the dusty, littered streets of your home, houses hung from the yellowed sky, loud boom of the athan five times a day. despite being a temporary visitor, with fingers clutching suitcases, toes steeped in American soil, someone always reminds you of that makeshift hospital on Queen Rania Street where you were born. some days you want to drown in your grandmother’s black abaya. love resides in arms so you learned how to walk that shattered concrete, smoke smooth mint hookah, dip pita bread into zaat then zaatar, lay on rooftop patios, haggle in crowded bazaars, speak Arabic, hear your name, noor ― as in light ― spoken with a rolled r, spoken like it should be. |
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Noor Hindi is currently pursuing her MFA in poetry through the NEOMFA. Her micro-chapbook Diary of a Filthy Woman is forthcoming from Porkbelly Press in 2018. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Jet Fuel Review, Diode Poetry, Whiskey Island Magazine, Flock Literary Journal, and Foundry. Hindi is also a poetry reader for BOAAT Journal. She writes for The Devil Strip Magazine. Check out her poetry blog at nervouspoodlepoetry.com.