A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
What she called home was a jar of olives
shaken from the tree by hand
sorted and stabbed
then pressed one against the other
doused in lemon and salt.
What she called home was an old photograph
corners curling in the acid of time’s passage
summer skirts fading to sepia.
What she called home was a fig tree leaning
against the wall, fruit sweetening slow
in summer heat.
What she called home was a blessings bowl
flower-scented water swirling over etched prayers,
chasing away phantoms.
What she called home was a prayer call
ache let loose from the highest minaret
circling the dome of the sky.
Copyright 2017. From Water & Salt published by Red Hen.
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha is an American poet of Palestinian, Jordanian and Syrian heritage. She lives in Redmond, Washington, with her family.