Illustration by Tim Robinson.
1They inscribed their lives on clayand moved awayI hear the echo pulse by pulse
2Some memories we chaselike goats away from flowers,yet we wake one dayto the wilted ruins
3Let’s meet in the word forgottenfrom the dictionary, and breatheits air like the smell of the “klecha”my mother baked for the Eid holiday
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In my country, I was a stranger.In exile, I am strange
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The spider built its netin a statue’s open palm.For the spider, the palm is home,not a metaphor of home
Between the reemergence of right-wing red-baiting and Donald Trump’s use of the chilling National Security Presidential Memorandum–7 to criminalize left political organizing, we’re seeing McCarthyism reborn before our eyes.
This assault on democracy cannot be ignored or wished away. Resisting it requires bravery in the face of threats and repression, a steadfast commitment to the truth, and the unwavering belief that we can—and will—overcome this darkness.
We must have an independent media that sets the record straight, unearths corruption and abuses of power, and advances a politics of justice and dignity for all if we’re to win this fight.
That’s why I’m writing to you today. This September, The Nation needs to add 100 monthly donors to sustain our progressive journalism. Your contribution makes the next investigative report, the next truth-speaking column, and the next pathbreaking essay all possible.
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Onward,
Katrina vanden Heuvel
Editor and Publisher, The Nation
6
Imprisoned in the magical lampfor years that exceeded even the jinni’s abilityto count; he cannot wish himself out.His brief freedoms only comewhen others wish for a bit of luck
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When Human cries,Dog thinks the world is ending.When Human smiles,two stars from the world’s endglitter in Dog’s eyes.When Human makes waror any other ridiculous thing,Dog begs to curl up together on the rug
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She calls aloud for the absenteesin her country’s air,calling day and nightuntil they cling in her voice
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9
If you don’t carry the sunwithin, then why does lightspill from you everywhere?
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Deep inside the beach,moss grows around a rock,a soft embrace.When the water washes it away,it trembles like the gestureswe make waving from balconiesfor our loved onesin pandemic times
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We remember the days from the wordsof our beloved people
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They kept drawing circles on the groundas if their alphabet is a feeling with no end
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Sometimes I scribble imagesbecause I don’t have the words
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I ask the moon: Which is more worthy of loveyour light or darkness?Moon answers: A worthy love accepts both faces
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On the chess board,a pawn crawls to the last squareto survive
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Earth, too, needs a space
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I time-traveled to youfor a question
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Through closed eyes,she saw their stolen bodies,their scattered feathers,and their flutes
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Sad silence is translated into all languages
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The first moment of war: a slippery fish from the river
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The cage owner reminds the sparrow:life outside is inferno.One day the sparrow flies awayand there in the heights,overlooking the ruins of the world,the sparrow discovers the cage owner was right.It sings about the ruins,a beautiful song with no walls
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Does the clock knowthat its little ticksmake eternity?
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With one click, I can download your smile and everything will be good
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Let love bethe new world order
Dunya MikhailDunya Mikhail works as a special lecturer at Oakland University.