On my birthday, Bitan genially offers 

It was not a question one would ask as he did/ With his round glasses at the end of his nose

i quite like the smell of cloves, even more when they're burning/ turning charcoal in front of my eyes

This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant

The majority of my early childhood was spent in a big house filled with endless possibilities. At least, that’s what my preteen self thought at the time.

Shut shut let me shut my eyes, for even though / the dawn confiscating the dusk’s shades of greys arrives, / there is no place for me

Sweat beads upon my brow, my shirt begins to cling/ The vile monster's tendrils reach out, adhesive

Time has not forgiven him for his racist and imperialist views

I've seen love/ Rolling down from a mother's eyes/ As she picks her lean child, bathed in innocent blood

like a caterpillar cocooned into its shell undergoing metamorphosis—growing up sneaks up to you whether you want it or not

We have built a civilisation / of sky-high buildings, / of concrete cities, / of disconnected communities

While leaving the institute, a nurse gave me a packet of cigarettes as a token of friendship

go further than/ what the hills have seen/ through their ice pick scars

I am a poet because you love me

In my deep sleep, you came, my love—

“I sing the song of equality– Of a country where fresh joy blossoms in every heart

In myself I find her  She knows me better than myself 

As we continue to grapple with questions of identity, meaning, and societal change, Blake's visionary oeuvre serves as a guiding light

Smith’s framing runs into the same blind spot in other criticisms levelled at student protests, i.e. it detaches the student’s cause from the activists, academics, and journalists, Palestinian or otherwise, who have been documenting Israel’s settler colonial project for 75 years.

When there’s a lull in the air, I get the feeling that I’ve scraped the bottom of my fleshy insides.