Blue is the Dead Sea that trickles from my father’s eyes.
Dead Sea runs past his rough cheekbones,
crossing villages of Rafah and Ramallah across his nose.
Blue is the skyline that abandoned sunny days and clouds
and replaced them with missiles and m-16’s.
The bruises
left behind by IDF soldiers,
searching for their next demographic threat on my grandfather’s palms.
Blue is the Gazan beach
where refugees are children again.
their laughs almost drown out the sound of
broken homes and uprooted olive trees.
Blue is my grandmother’s flood of tears
one tear for each cheek.
intertwining like milk and honey as they fall from her chin
gliding down her bloodied Quran.
Every Surah she recites as she holds up her calloused hands.
her prayers travel across the Mediterranean
and I can feel them swallow me up.
Blue is the only home I’ve ever known.
***
text // kaoutar afif
image // reem almutairi