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Seeds
Renee Yaseen After Fairuz and Khalil Gibran When Gibran sang through the voice of Arab nations the spittle grew flowers. We and the ground were brave and watered. Of flowers and fruit, to Fairuz, the sky was close, Heaven, she meant, was close. the desert rose never needs much Miracles lined each stem. My forefathers plant. I come from where land means Pomelos, bright juice, sweetened sun, where Fruit is fruit. Ten years ago, my uncle promised me a turtle and a handful of snails From our orchard. So much has changed. But turtles still eat tomatoes. I grew up with mentions of seeds ringing in my ears. From the news. The prisoner Behind my eyes beat against the walls, berserk, and cried out: Where will you plant them?
