Aicha عايشَة means “she lives” or “she who is alive” in Arabic. Aicha Bint Yusif grew up in the Lower Galilee, Palestine. She holds a double degree in English Literature and Honors interdisciplinary program, and is currently studying Medicine in Spain. Aicha mainly writes poems, and her works appear in Rusted Radishes (Beirut) and World Literature Today (NYC) among others. She is passionate about languages, embroidery and running. In addition, she is the founder of Poetry is Closer than the Sea project.
instagram: @aichabintyusif
Collect the capers and press them with vinegar before
they flower into purple somersaults coming out of white petals.
Shake your shoes like a djinn dancing after a day at the shore,
Where you watched the fishermen ask the sea for the day’s feast.
Contemplate the port just when the sun rays comb the waters
And the cranes of far ships look like turtles with long necks.
Pick jasmine flowers when you see them climbing the neighborhood’s wall,
And make them into a necklace that fends off the evil’s gaze.
Walk around Roman columns dotting the coast,
and hope that the gods hear your call for grace.
Bask in the sun, and take the sacrament in the shape of sun rays:
Blessed and dark-skinned, the earth will rejoice at your footsteps.
Cross the basin from Carthage to Istanbul, greet Aenead
And tell him it’s either love or greatness- you can’t have both.
Alway have cold beer in your fridge, or Arak with ice
and on long nights drink it with people you love.
Cut watermelons with a sword, make peach jam
from the overripe fruit covering the back yard, and count
the pomegranate seeds for good luck.
Climb the ancient hills, admire the deers in the yellow mountains
And collect the fossils carved with history.
Salute the Phoenicians before the clouds hug the water’s face,
And welcome visitors with a plate of dates and songs.
Question history. Re-draw borders, but always have
the Mediterranean in the center of the map.
(originally published in Fikra Magazine)
Ulysses spends time in Haifa
we waited for the bus together
Ulysses and I talked about the change of weather
“the wind is not expedient to sail”
he said and pondered the fall.
I said “but the bus does not need any wind,
prompted by gas, it climbs faster than the wind
ups and downs, it is no problem
the bus is bumpy but solid”
“but does it have a captain?
does it not have a crew?”
I say “yes the driver steers the rudder
climbs the Carmel and descends to the shore”
if so, he retorted “how does it survive?
how does the captain know where to drive?
I have lead great fleets into the unknown,
when man knows no direction, it is a lost cause”
“yes, I agree but fleets, ships and buses change
marked by a number and not a name
they go a route just the same
and passengers come and go
with no attachment to make it slow.
they push the button to get off
and that’s how the quest seals off
“Indeed different it is from our times
time is fast and so is the ride,
too fast for any bonds to be made
at least greet the captain, he is the last spade”
Balconies in Tarragona
Near carrer de Nazaret:
A small balcony, rectangular-shaped and slim,
Wide as one azulejo and long as five steps,
The metallic bars coil around each other from top to bottom,
And the rest is
Flowers:
An explosion of geraniums
White and lilac,
they fill the space and pour into the street,
Surrendering to gravity.
I pass by, mesmerized by its beautiful raid of aroma,
as my neck cranes towards the battle scene,
I witness the triumph of sublime metaphysics.
Poetry in this post: © Aicha Bint Yusif
Published with the permission of Aicha Bint Yusif